


Akaashi and the Beast

by FrazzledDragon



Series: once upon haikyuu [2]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Beauty and the Beast AU, Beauty and the Beast Elements, Everyone's a badass, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Magic, Sequel to Sugarella, Tags Are Hard, Transformation, i'll update tags as i figure out what they need to be lol, mild body horror, mild violence, no editing we die like men
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-21
Updated: 2021-02-20
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:27:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 27,186
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28218486
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FrazzledDragon/pseuds/FrazzledDragon
Summary: Bokuto has gone missing.Akaashi takes it upon himself to venture into the dark wood and find him.
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou, Bokuto Koutarou & Terushima Yuuji, Kozume Kenma/Kuroo Tetsurou, Sawamura Daichi/Sugawara Koushi
Series: once upon haikyuu [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1852510
Comments: 46
Kudos: 71





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> hey look at me making a decision i will probably regret!!!
> 
> i have not finished writing this yet - i only have around 10,000 words written for it, so my update schedule will probably be extraordinarily wacky, but i wanted to expand this universe and i have SO many ideas :)
> 
> if you're still interested in reading, i hope you enjoy! this, and any other sequels i post will likely not be as long as Sugarella, but i'm hopeful that they'll be just as enjoyable!!!

Akaashi Keiji looks at the sun, which is sinking low in the west, as he strides down the well-trodden dirt road. He’s passing more horse-drawn wagons now, and the high spires of the city are easily visible above the tall grass that covers the hills. They’d have to make camp and rest soon, but he’s getting close. Two weeks of walking, and they’re just now getting close.

Maybe he should have taken the mule, like Yachi suggested.

Or at least Kenma, who is trailing behind him, should have brought a mule. Another low groan escapes the short, some sort of utterance bemoaning this fact exactly. The castle is only getting taller on the horizon though, and he points this out smoothly. They are getting close. Only maybe two, three days more walking and they’ll be in the capital. 

Normally, Akaashi is not one for travel. Short of travelling to find work, he doesn’t really enjoy it. It’s stressful and dangerous, after all, especially if one planned to travel alone. Really, the only reason Yachi (because, of course, this was all Yachi’s doing - Ennoshita is complicit too, but this was all Yachi’s fault) was able to convince him to go at all was coaxing Kenma into going with him.

And if he were really being honest with himself, Akaashi would say he partially agreed because he misses Bokuto too, as well as Kuroo and Sawamura. They hadn’t known each other long, a little over two weeks when all had been said and done, but the connection was real. Bokuto and he still write, of course, but the letters take more than two weeks to deliver, and both of them have more pressing and time-consuming commitments, so all in all, the nearly four months they had been apart only resulted in three letters total. 

Kenma is in much the same boat. His own knight is just as busy, and their communication is perhaps even less effective than Akaashi and Bokuto’s. Kenma is someone who communicates more nonverbally than verbally, and some of the most informative conversations Akaashi has ever had with him have had little dialogue involved. Kenma, upon realizing this, has let Akaashi read over a couple of them, in efforts to make them less bland.

Akaashi is not sure they were successful. 

Regardless, the fact that Yachi was closing up shop for the month (financially, just from leftover Lady Kageyama purchases and Suga’s  _ ungodly large _ donation alone, they could stand to close up for a month and take personal time), Kenma was willing to come along, and the fact that Bokuto is much  _ more  _ in person, were Akaashi’s main reasons for going.

Of course, it helps that Suga, who had moved to the capital shortly after Sawamura and his knights had returned, had offered them lodging with him, so they would have a safe place to stay and someone who wasn’t royalty and might have time to hang out with them there too.

All of this is what runs through Akaashi’s mind, leaping over the many anxieties that he’s working on quieting. This road is well patrolled by the surrounding baronies, so they probably won’t get robbed. They aren’t carrying anything of value anyways. If provoked, Kenma could  _ probably _ kill a man. 

One of the quieter, more stealthy worries is for Bokuto. Perhaps he doesn’t feel the same way anymore. Perhaps he is weirded out by Akaashi travelling across the kingdom to see him. Perhaps something had happened to him or to Sawamura, or to Suga, or to Kuroo, which is why despite there being well enough time for him to write Akaashi back before he left on this adventure, no letter ever came. 

The messenger, a kind guy, roughly Akaashi’s age named Semi, had promised to do his best to find them if a letter of any kind was found or sent. Akaashi is really trying not to worry. Bokuto’s last couple letters hadn’t hinted at any sort of distress, or even the likelihood of coming stressors.

Granted, Bokuto doesn’t strike Akaashi as the type to worry too much about the future - he lives far too viciously in the moment to be bothered by such trivial matters. It’s one of the many reasons Akaashi finds him so enthralling. To live so consciously for the breath you’re taking is admirable in anyone.

“How much longer?” Unsurprisingly, this is not the first time Kenma has posed such a question. Also unsurprisingly, this is not the first time Akaashi has answered it either.

“Two, three days, maybe?” He calls back. “Longer if you don’t walk faster.”

Kenma makes a truly impressive face, a twisted grimacing frown. “My legs are short and my job is not physical so much as design-oriented. I am walking as fast as I can, despite what you may think.”

“Liar. I have seen you walk faster. You practically sprinted to the merchant carrying the dice. Hinata said you got excited about the game Kageyama and Oikawa were playing and actually jogged to the mansion.”

Kenma’s grimace grows  _ more _ , and Akaashi is suddenly worried he’ll pull a facial muscle. If Kenma didn’t draw breath to speak, he might have pointed it out. “If  _ you _ can move faster after hours and  _ hours _ of walking, I’ll respect your opinion. But since you’re not moving all that much faster than me now, I see no reason for you to be complaining.”

Akaashi smirks, a glimmer in his eye. “Has it occurred to you that you are slowing me down?”

Kenma glares. “No. Because I’m not.”

His legs ache and the path has taken an uphill nature and it has been too long since he stopped to sip from his canteen, but he starts to jog, just to prove Kenma wrong. Not for long - again, he’s stubborn, not stupid - but long enough that Kenma’s expression has soured even beyond the limits Akaashi thought his face was capable of, then slows to match his pace.

“Kuroo talks about Bokuto, you know. He misses you. Apparently, he’s constantly complaining that no one is as interesting as you are.”

Akaashi feels some worried thing in his chest relax a little. Kenma must have seen the worry in his features, though where he might never find out. Kenma is the best at reading people of anyone he knows, but rarely can Kenma describe  _ how _ he got to the conclusions he did. He can say vague things - a tell that indicates this or that, but never how he took an off hand-twitch to mean one’s mother isn’t in good health. 

“It seems unlike him to miss an opportunity to reach out,” Akaashi says carefully, trying not to show just how on the nose Kenma was.

“Kuroo didn’t write me either.”

Akaashi looks up in alarm. He hadn’t mentioned Bokuto not writing to him to Kenma, but neither had Kenma mentioned any disruption in his correspondence with Kuroo. “He didn’t?”

Kenma shakes his head. “To worry about them now is to borrow trouble. Suga would have found a way to warn us if it were not safe for us there. You know that.”

He’s right, of course, as he usually is and Akaashi takes a deep breath. “Kuroo’s more regular with letters than Bokuto is, though.”

Kenma shrugs. “Life happens. Hell, it might not have even been a bad thing. One of Bokuto’s siblings may have gotten married. Maybe they were simply busy and didn’t get the chance to write. Shit happens. I’m choosing not to worry about it, regardless.”

Akaashi wonders if “choosing” not to worry about something is equivalent to not worrying about it. He suspects not, especially as he watches Kenma’s gaze flick nervously over him, as if he’s waiting to be rebuked. Despite all the amazing comebacks his brain spits out at him, Akaashi simply nods. After all, Kenma was saying all this to cheer him up, presumably. He’d probably be pissed if Akaashi told him was wrong immediately after.

It doesn’t help him shake the worry that’s cozily nuzzled into his lungs, making breathing a conscious act. He knows it’s just because he never thought he would go so far just to hang out with another human being - even his family, whom he is mostly friendly with, is not a group of people he sees outside of funerals, pregnancy celebrations, and the odd medical crisis (though, usually, if it’s the latter, the person in question has already passed, leading back around to the first). He does not travel to see them - at least, not for the joy of seeing them. He is friendly with his family, not  _ friends with _ . This, especially when there is no means of travel faster than horse available, is a very important distinction.

He shakes his head. He will follow Kenma’s lead and  _ choose  _ to not worry. He’s right after all - there’s no point in worrying without cause.

The outer wall of the city is well-patrolled. The guards at the gate ask for their names and business in the city. Akaashi answers for both of them. The guards let them through.

It’s late afternoon, and the last fingers of sunlight are stroking over the tops of the buildings, but Akaashi can’t shake the feeling that something’s… off. It had been many winters since he last was in a city, but since becoming a craftsman, he knows that to sell wares, especially when you’re in competition with other vendors, you can’t simply… stand and stare.

All the vendors that line the streets look wary and distrustful of Akaashi and Kenma. Few will meet Akaashi’s eyes, and the few who do are not subtle in showing the knives or small maces they carry.

This is a city on edge, Akaashi realizes. A city which is expecting an attack. 

He reminds himself that he doesn’t know that. He’s speculating, based on his past knowledge of people and the places he’s lived. He’s never lived in the capital. It could be that people here are simply wary of strangers in general, and that this is normal. 

Kenma shuffles closer to him, the small shiv he carries delicately balanced in his fingers.

Akaashi makes himself to swallow, take a deep breath, and approach the least violent looking of the merchants in the street. Kenma follows him silently, like a shadow.

“Hello!” He begins, forcing a smile. “We’ve been summoned to see the prince? Any chance you could point us in the right direction?”

The merchant’s eyes are calculating and unwelcoming and they do not bother to return his smile. “Head north.”

Akaashi bows his thanks, quickly getting the  _ hell _ out of there. Kenma is right on his heels. “Hospitable,” he mutters under his breath, and Akaashi huffs a laugh.

It takes them a while to get to the capital - the streets are narrow and winding and the buildings are tall. With the sun rapidly setting, they’re losing daylight. Only when they finally,  _ finally _ meet a patrol of soldiers, are they able to show the letters Sawamura sent with his seal on them, so they will be able to get within the castle walls. According to Bokuto’s letters, Suga eats with the prince basically every evening, so going to Suga’s for dinner is somewhat pointless. 

It’s perfectly fine, as far as Akaashi is concerned. He gets to see all of his friends in one fell swoop. There would be time to chat with Suga alone later. 

The soldiers in the patrol are stingy and ill-tempered. They don’t joke, don’t smile - despite Akaashi’s best efforts to prompt both - and are jumpy. A mangy, matted cat jumps down from a window sill and Akaashi’s life flashes before his eyes as a soldier spins so fast he almost beheads Akaashi with his ax. He’s definitely not miffed he didn’t get an apology. Of course not.

To get through the castle door, they have to withstand a whole other wave of judgemental staring and wary movements toward weaponry, but once again, in the end Sawamura’s seal gets them through. 

A servant leads them through the widing, narrow halls to a door, guarded by two, unfamiliar knights. Both of them are two whole heads taller than Akaashi and four heads taller than Kenma. Each of them is twice as broad as Kenma. 

Akaashi frowns. From what Bokuto told him, he was pretty sure that Kuroo and Bokuto were Sawamura’s sole guards. Strange, but it could have simply been a misunderstanding. Bokuto talks  _ really  _ fast when he’s excited, and when Akaashi asked about his day job he got  _ very _ excited.

The guards do  _ not  _ let them in so easily, even when they show them the seals. 

“I don’t understand the hold-up,” Kenma says, his voice scathing. “We have the seals. We are here under invitation. If you would just go ask the damn guy, you’d find out that he’s expecting us. It’s hard for  _ us  _ to fake  _ his  _ reaction.”

Akaashi places a hand on his arm, keeping him from physically moving the guards out of his way. “Please forgive him. We’ve come a considerable distance and to be turned out from seeing our  _ friends  _ because of superstition alone is upsetting for both of us. We’ll cause no trouble, you have my word, if you’ll simply go approach Prince Sawamura and his guest, Sugawara, you’ll find there is no foul play here.”

“You will have to wait till tomorrow at sunhigh. By then, Prince Sawamura will have been queried about your visit. You will report to the guards by the outer gates at sunhigh.”

“Damn it all, Matsumoto!” Sawamura bursts out of the door, glaring one of the knights down, then the other. “You too, Seki. Akaashi, Kenma, come on in. Ignore them. They don’t listen for shit. I  _ told  _ them to let you two in and they  _ will _ be facing the consequences of their actions later.”

A little wide eyed at Sawamura’s irritation, Akaashi and Kenma shuffle inside. Sugawara, smiling brilliantly, hugs them both. Akaashi is a little relieved to see him, alive and well. 

His cheeks are fuller, his eyes brighter. His smile is more real, shining and lively. He looks well. He is no longer skin and bones, and his clothes, which are brightly colored and soft-looking, and serve to make him even more healthy. It’s only been a few months, but Akaashi can see how well freedom has been treating Sugawara Koushi. But even still, there seems to be a tension to the way his eyes dart from face to face, the way that even though Sawamura hadn’t even left his line of sight, he still seems anxious for his return. 

“You look happy,” Kenma says, though Akaashi knows he sees the tension too. His eyes shimmer in the candlelight. “The city has been good for you. I’m glad.”

Sugawara’s smile only grows. When Sawamura returns to his side, their fingers knot together. “That’s what Daichi’s been saying too. I can’t say I disagree! It’s… it’s been a weird transition, but definitely a good one. How have things been back in Karasuno?”

They talk for a while, but as they do, the elephant in the room gets bigger and bigger the longer it’s left unmentioned. “Where are Kuroo and Bokuto?” It’s Akaashi who finally asks.

The tension peaks then. Sawamura and Sugawara look at one another. “We don’t know,” Sawamura says eventually. Akaashi almost feels bad for asking, feeling the worry pouring off of him in waves.

Sugawara’s voice is tight. “They… went missing.”

Kenma’s eyes narrow. “What do you mean.”

“Bo first, then when Kuroo went to find him, he never came back. They’re… They’re just gone.” Daichi sounds close to crying already. Suga’s grip on his hand is tight enough for his knuckles to turn white. Akaashi frowns.

“Where?”

“There’s a forest just outside the city.” Sawamura rubs his sinuses. “Bo had the day off. He was hanging out with an old friend of his. Then… he didn’t come back. Bo’s never missed a day of work. When he’s sick, Kuroo and I have to tie him to a bed to get him to rest. He’s all power and effort - he’d rather work himself to death than admit defeat. So… So we knew something was wrong. Terushima came back, really worried, then went to look for him and never came back.”

Suga nudges Sawamura’s shoulder - Akaashi notices tears are pooling in Sawamura’s eyes. “The next day, Kuroo went to look for Bo, and took a whole patrol of knights with him. The whole patrol came back unscathed, but Kuroo was gone. No trace of him. The woods… I don’t know how, but no one can get through. Daichi won’t let me try-” This is said with a pinch of contention; it’s clear they’ve argued this before and likely will again if Suga has any say in it, “- and he can’t go, because if he goes missing, the kingdom will… Not take kindly to that.”

“Bo and Kuroo are more than just my knights. More than just  _ my _ friends.” Sawamura coughs, clearing his throat. “They are friends with everyone in town square, and all the highest ranking knights in the castle. They spend their paychecks at all the vendors, and support local businesses. When they have days off, they volunteer to do physical labor for elderly and sickly. Their disappearance impacts the entire community around the castle. People already know and have sent out search parties of their own, and all have come up empty. A few people have disappeared with them.”

Kenma’s piercing look has softened with genuine concern. “Do we have any evidence they’re gone?”

Sawamura shakes his head firmly.

“We know where they went missing. We know when they went missing. We just don’t know why or how.”

Akaashi bites his lip, thinking. “When  _ did  _ they go missing?”

“Two weeks ago.”

Not long enough to write them. Akaashi shivers. “What do we do?”

“That’s the golden question,” Sawamura sighs. “Believe me when I say, I’d do  _ anything _ to find them. They’re… They’re my best friends. But I cannot risk the kingdom for them, however much I’d like to. I will keep trying to do what I can for them. But I… I have to consider the people whose lives I’m risking for the sake of theirs. They are strong. They will wait for an opportunity and they will find a way to get in contact with the castle. I have all the knights on high alert for any sign of them, or their captors. I have… I have to believe that that will be enough.”

Kenma nods. “That’s a wise decision, Sawamura. That ability to prioritize will make you a strong king, regardless of how painful the decisions may be.”

Sawamura’s eyes shine. He doesn’t look exactly pleased with the compliment, but Akaashi supposes that he probably shouldn't be. “Thanks, Kozume.”

“How many people have gone missing?” As much as Akaashi agrees with Kenma - Sawamura really making the best choices someone in his position can make, at least as far as Akaashi is concerned - he’s never exactly been patient. Maybe there’s some question they haven’t asked yet, some key detail that would make this all make sense.

“Including Bo and Kuroo? Fifteen. Bo’s friend, Terushima, as well as Aone, who you guys knew briefly, five knights, and six citizens.”

“That’s a lot of trained knights…” Akaashi murmurs. “I wonder how their captors are disarming them. Even unarmed, Kuroo and Bokuto aren’t exactly harmless. I’m assuming Terushima and the other knights would be the same.”

“There’s evidence to suggest the involvement of magic,” Suga offers. “Which would explain why they haven’t already fought their way out. I’ve already written Asahi for a second opinion. He should have gotten my letter a day or two after you two left, so hopefully we’ll be getting a response soon.”

“I’ve been in contact with the court sorcerer, but to no avail. He says that something powerful enough to control that many minds or bodies doesn’t exist. He says it’d be too taxing for any living individual - even the magically inclined beasts of this world are not strong enough to manage it.”

“Is there any rhyme or reason to the people who go missing, versus the people who don’t?” Kenma’s voice is calm and serious.

Suga and Sawamura look up in surprise at Kenma, and Sawamura recovers first. “Not noticeably. Different ranks. A lot of them were friends with Bokuto, but other than that, there’s little in common.”

“You do know what that suggests, right?” Kenma’s eyes are dark. “Kidnapping a high level guard, one of the closest to the High Prince of Haikyu, then a multitude of his closest friends and innocent people?”

Sawamura tenses, and Suga pales.

“I respect your decisions leading up to this point, Sawamura. Do not mistake my observations for distaste. I am simply worried that waiting might be their demise, along with everyone around them.”

“If… If… they’re… being…  _ tortured… _ ” The word sounds like gravel coming out of Suga’s mouth, painful and harsh. “What could they tell a possible tormentor?” he asks, nervous and quiet.

Sawamura rubs his temples now, finger-tips pressing small circles into his skin. “Anything? I kept nothing from them, but they won’t break. I can’t say the same for Terushima, nor any of the other knights.”

“Where is this forest?” This is the question he needs the answer to.

Akaashi ignores the way Sugawara’s gaze pierces through him, the way Kenma pointedly  _ doesn’t _ look at him, and meets Sawamura’s eyes evenly. Akaashi doesn’t know Sawamura well enough to know what he’s thinking now, but he thinks he sees understanding there. “The forest is to the west of the castle.”

“You’re not going to go there, right? Not alone?” Suga says, his voice holding no compromise whatsoever.

Akaashi rolls his eyes. He hopes it’s convincing. “No.”

If Kenma doesn’t believe him, he doesn’t say so out loud. 

Akaashi doesn’t leave that night. He needs more time to think, more time to talk to people and gather information. But Kenma does.

The next morning, Suga’s cooking breakfast - he can hear him humming from the cot on the floor where he’ll spend the next several nights. He’s waking slowly, as one is wont to do on vacation, until he looks over at Kenma’s cot and sees the empty blankets. 

He has no evidence that Kenma has left, but that sinking feeling in his chest seems sure. When he goes out to where Suga’s cooking - alone, still in his pajamas. “Where’s Kenma?”

Suga drops the pan he’s cooking onto the stove top. “He’s not in there?”

Akaashi shakes his head. “Bathhouse?”

Suga is shaking. “I’ve been up since before sunrise. If he went, he’d have had to leave before then. I haven’t seen him since he went to bed last night.”

He swallows, carefully. He forces deep breaths of air into his lungs. “We should tell Prince Sawamura. See if we can find him.”

Prince Sawamura is not any more thrilled by this discovery than Suga and Akaashi were.

He sends a patrol to look for him, but instructs them to not go further than twenty paces beyond the tree line. Akaashi’s chest is consumed by that sinking feeling. He cannot leave the city without Kenma. He will not.

Sugawara watches him like a hawk and is not the least bit subtle about it. Akaashi wants to point out that that speaks to his belief that their friends are still okay, but for once, he doesn’t. Mostly because he cannot accept anything but their friends still being okay. It’s not rational, it’s not reasonable, but neither are his friends disappearing into the forest without a trace or a word.

Bokuto  _ loves _ his job. He loves Sawamura and Kuroo and all of the responsibilities and challenges. He  _ loves _ this. He would not leave it - not for the world. The fact that he’s gone, the fact that Kuroo and Kenma are gone, people who are also happy with their lots in life… It does not bode well.

“We have to do something,” he says, though that wasn’t exactly what he wanted to say. The words sort of burst out of him, leaving him with no control. “This poses a serious threat to the kingdom.”

Both Sawamura and Suga nod. “There have been  _ numerous _ councils discussing that very thing,” Sawamura continues. “There have already been attempts to cut down, burn down, or uproot and remove trees from the area, physically carving a path, but if someone takes their eyes off the wood for the blink of an eye, the trees will reappear, and objects and lifeforms will be displaced to allow for the newly appeared trees. Humans are fallible, and despite our attempts to keep a set of eyes on the trees at all times, every failure is a setback we can’t really afford.”

“Then what are our options? Wait until someone reappears?” He hates the way his voice is rising in pitch, hates the way panic sounds on him, but he ignores it. He takes another deep breath. “I’ll give Kenma two days. But then I say we ask for volunteers. No forcing, no reward, nothing. Just give people the honest truth. If they want to go, they can. If they don’t, they are under no obligation and it is no stain on their character.”

“That still might result in innocent people going missing.”

“Sawamura-san, innocent people already  _ have _ gone missing. We’re trying to find them. People will want to look for their loved ones, just as we want to look for our friends. The more attempts we make, the more we learn about the nature of this magic. The fact that some people are spat back out of the wood suggests that there is some sort of qualifier. If we could determine what that is, that would be instrumental in figuring out how to save them all.” His voice shakes with impatience, but he’s proud that it’s no longer panic.

“Bokuto was gone first, right?” Suga whispers, as if to ease the tension in the room. “You got to speak to Terushima before he went missing?”

Sawamura nods.

“I’ve been thinking. Bo was the first to go. But… But Kuroo said Matsumoto patrols that area twice a week. He’s pretty close to you as well, as frustrated as you get with him sometimes. He didn’t go missing. And your parents took a stroll near those woods just last week, and they didn’t go missing. I think we’ve been so caught up in the fact that all of these people are missing that we haven’t really considered the “why” enough.” Suga sits up straighter, warming to his point. “What if the target was Bokuto and not the royal family? Does he have any enemies?”

“You said all the people that went missing were his friends. Or… Or most of them.” Akaashi interrupts, feeling the blood drain out of his cheeks. “Is it possible the ones you weren’t sure about are also his friends?”

Sawamura closes his eyes, visibly aging before them. “Yeah, it’s totally possible.”

“Matsumoto and your parents aren’t his friends?”

Sawamura shrugs. “Bokuto likes my parents just fine, but I doubt he would consider them friends. They really don’t interact all that much, outside of royal banquets, and oftentimes he’s upset with them for the decisions they make regarding me. His job is to protect me, and because he’s not just my guard, but my friend, he includes my parents as possible threats to my health and safety, even when they mean well.”

“So the only people who are able to get close are Bokuto’s friends?” Akaashi’s head hurts. He clenches his jaw.

No one answers, but he doesn’t really need one.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The path toward answers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> happy holidays :D
> 
> i'm not super happy with the ending of this chapter, but if i added the next segment, it would be weirdly paced for the next chapter so i'm gonna leave it and maybe fix it later if it REALLY irritates me....
> 
> we'll see i guess
> 
> in any case, i hope you enjoy this chapter, and i hope you've had a good day :)

It doesn’t take him long to make up his mind.

He packs a bag with apples, dried meat, and a couple canteens of clean fresh water, and leaves the moment Suga’s eyes (which were trying to prevent this very occurrence, he knows - he wrote him a short note of apology) fall closed for the night.

The wood is dark and looming, which makes it all too easy to identify. Akaashi adjusts the strap on his shoulder. Bokuto only has so many friends, which means they only have so many chances to save him, and all his other friends that went before. Not saving them all isn’t an option, not even worth considering, so that leaves only one choice.

Akaashi cannot be like the rest. He can be certain of little else.

He refuses to acknowledge the chill that crawls up his spine as he takes the first step into the wood. The world around feels as though it has been made of different substances, the trees not made of wood, but of something far more dangerous. The dirt beneath his feet feels like it would swallow him whole if he took his eyes off of it, or if he dared lose focus for even a moment. Even the strangely warm fog that weaves between the thick, immovable trunks feels thick and tastes sour on his tongue.

_ Come inside, _ the trees seem to whisper, sinister and low.  _ Come find shelter here _ .  _ Let your guard down. It is safe. It is warm. Find rest here. Find safety. Wander closer. _

He sets his shoulders and takes up a slow, careful pace. If something is to come out of the forest, he wants the stamina he’ll need to escape available. Not there’s any sign of wildlife or people with malicious intent around - in fact, it’s eerily silent. No bugs. No birds. No rabbits.

This forest gives him the heebie jeebies and he can’t wait to get out of here. Preferably, dragging his friends out of here with him.

He allows the bushes and trees to guide his path. He supposes, after trying to discern where there are paths through, that trying to barge through a wood determined to exist exactly how it wants, regardless of what measures are taken against it, is futile.

The further in he goes, despite the wandering, indirect nature of his path, the more careful Akaashi becomes with how he places his feet, trying to avoid twigs and roots and branches. It becomes quickly apparent that this wood wants him to fall into that dirt feels so wrong beneath his feet. This forest wants him scared, wants him to make mistakes.

He hopes he disappoints this forest.

He goes further, deeper. The fog gets thicker. 

The forest gets scarier.

He sees eyes, though he tries his best not to think too hard about them - the glowing red and green and purple and blue shapes that hover in the corners of his vision, disappearing without a trace of any kind any time he breaks and tries to catch a clearer glimpse of them. He would assume they were nothing more than illusions, if he hadn’t felt one brush the back of his neck, the ragged, grimy claws leaving smears of mud and goosebumps up his arms. 

Illusions don’t leave mud prints.

He wipes the mud away with a mildly disgusted grunt.

The wood grates on his nerves and his patience. He hasn’t been here long - he knows. It’s just the way he has to think about every step, has to keep his eyes open and his head on a swivel, lest the next creature that sneaks up behind him leave more of a mark on his skin than mere mud.

He forces himself to focus. He cannot afford distraction, cannot afford to miss a single clue to this strange little mystery he’s found himself involved in. He ponders the eyes, the claws, the way the trees block out all natural light, yet he can still see the path in front of him and the trail of footprints in the dirt behind him. Fear will never beat Bokuto (Akaashi is convinced he genuinely doesn’t know what fear is) so Akaashi will not let it beat him. 

It’s weird, trekking further and further past where Sawamura’s people got, knowing that Sawamura won’t send anyone out after him. Sawamura can’t afford to show weakness, to show desperation, though he’ll probably feel both after losing so many friends so quickly. Anyone would. The fact that anyone would target Bokuto or Kuroo is unsettling enough, but for them to target them and then  _ succeed _ at taking them out is another thing entirely and his people  _ know that _ . That means that he has to be careful what else his people come to know.

Sawamura can’t afford to take risks because showing weakness now could mean dangers unprecedented. If these people can take out the best knights in the kingdom, then who knows what they can do to common folk? Since Sawamura can’t afford to leave his kingdom weak, Akaashi will follow Kenma and Kuroo’s lead and take those risks in his stead. 

Honestly, Akaashi knows this is undeniably foolish. He’s no hero. He has no combat skills. He’s not particularly strong. He’s not even  _ that _ amazing as a craftsperson. But without knowledge of what happened… he cannot simply just… let it go. The fact that no one has claimed their victory, the fact that they’ve simply disappeared with no trace left behind, the fact that this wood is so damned weird… it all meshes together somehow, Akaashi is sure of it.

He cannot lose Kenma, Bokuto or Kuroo. Not yet.

People like Bokuto don’t just vanish. He and all the others who have gone missing are not simpletons, despite how hard they may try to convince others so. They are skilled warriors with survival skills and loved ones to come home to.

He needs closure, and so do all of the missing peoples’ loved ones.

That being said, Akaashi is mature enough to admit it’s partially because it’s Bokuto that he’s so inspired to do something so reckless. It’s so rare that someone takes that extra little bit of time out of their day and gives it to him, and Bokuto did that every time he wrote a letter (his were always several pages long with wacky, inconsistent yet somehow always still legible scrawl - Akaashi finds it oddly appropriate). He will repay that kindness, that he is sure of.

Well, he’ll try. Seeing as his physical abilities are pretty much null in the face of combat… Maybe he’ll be able to find Kenma. Kenma is  _ definitely _ the bigger threat in physical combat than he’ll ever be. 

He tries not to discount himself too much. He is smart, he is level-headed, and he is determined. Though they may not triumph in a usual duel, very little about this whole mess reads as ‘usual’ to Akaashi.

It’s during his slow walk that he develops his plan.

Once he gets a glimpse of where they are, he’ll turn right around and tell Sawamura everything. He may be stubborn, but he’d like to think he’s not stupid. If Kenma, Bokuto, Kuroo, and various other (presumably) talented knights can’t take on whatever or whoever is behind this, Akaashi (with the crude spear he borrowed from the armory) absolutely  _ can’t _ . Sawamura, on the other hand, armed with knowledge and confirmation that his friends are okay?

Sawamura can  _ absolutely _ take them down.

In fact, he’s so busy getting excited for how Prince Sawamura is going to absolutely destroy the person who scared his kingdom so bad that he loses focus for just a moment.

He lets out a tiny hiss of pain as a thorn tears through his trousers, blood welling immediately. His brow furrows - more with the annoyance than anything. He had let his mind wander for a moment, and now he’s bleeding. Irritating. And of course, he didn’t pack any bandaging. He’s…  _ really _ not a hero. Why didn’t he pack bandages? What was he thinking?

“S-s-s-sound…. Like… like… me.”

Akaashi whirls, grimacing again as he tears more holes in his trousers and draws more blood. He could have  _ sworn _ he was alone. He looks around, and seeing no people, looks down. He finds himself face to face with a snake. A snake, whose bloody tail-tip is thoroughly implanted one such thorn.

“You spoke?” In his alarm, Akaashi cannot come up with anything more intelligent to say. “You’re a snake.”

The snake stares at him, silent for long enough that Akaashi is  _ pretty sure _ he imagined everything about the interaction. Then, quietly, “S… S-s...u… Suguru…”

Akaashi blinks. “You… Your name is Suguru.”

The snake nods agreeably. Then cocks its head in a manner suggesting Akaashi be polite and also provide his name for the weirdly trapped reptile that is scaring the living daylights out of him effortlessly. Suguru’s eyes and strangely round pupils stare back at him, unconcerned.

He forces himself to breathe. In through his mouth, out through his nose. Magic, Suga had said. He knows a little about magic. Something is better than nothing, right? He thinks of Tanaka and Noya, the way their human bodies would contort and change under Asahi’s firm control, til they’re nothing more than small mice with human vocal cords and minds. This must be some variation of that same vein of magic.

At least, that would make sense. But from what Asahi’s told him, it’s far more related to stamina and individual aptitudes for magic than logic.

For now, at least, he decides to humor the snake. “My name is Akaashi. Are you a friend of Sir Bokuto?”

Suguru hisses, and nods. “Yes, Bokuto is my friend.”

Akaashi frowns. Suguru struggled through its name, but not through that sentence? Surely, for a snake, the former was easier than the latter?

“C… C… Curssse,” Suguru grimaces through the unasked question. It looks like it's in pain, trying to speak. Then, with no sign of struggle: “I can lead you to Bokuto.”

“Are you limited in what you can say?” Akaashi does not yet address what the snake said. Much like with the thorns, he needs to focus on what is right in front of him first. Then, and only then, will he think about what will come next. “Were you one of the knights that accompanied Sir Bokuto?”

The snake nods.

Akaashi’s eyes widen. It makes sense, he supposes. Magic is what enchants this forest. Magic disregards physical prowess in many ways, especially if the source is strong enough. It seems all too obvious, now that he’s thinking about. But… “Why should I follow you? I would rather not end up as a snake.”

Magic is also capable of incredible illusions, impossible feats, and more. Which means that magic is not something someone like him can trust offhandedly, and he cannot trust those he does not know when they are drenched in it either.

Suguru glares at him. “Bo… Boku… Bo isss… the beg… beginning and… and… the end.” They shake their head. “You must go to him, Akaashi. He needs you.” These words slip through like water from a siv, like they can’t control them.

“Have you seen a guy named Kenma? Shorter than me, with longer hair?”

Suguru nods.

“Where is he? Can you take me to him? I need to talk to him.”

Again, Suguru nods, but looks back at their tail. “Ke… Kenma… did… did not… did not like me.”

Akaashi smirks. “That doesn’t surprise me.” Honestly, it comforts him to find something in this forest of impossibilities and unlikelihoods that makes that much sense, even if it is a smidge violent. He gently and carefully pulls Suguru’s tail free of the thorn impaling it. “You know where he is, though? You can lead me to him?”

“Yesss. Follow.”

Akaashi can hardly contain his relief when he sees the familiar slope to Kenma’s shoulders, the long, straight hair curtaining his head. “Kenma,” he greets, only to stumble back in shock when distinctly feline ears perk up on who he thought was Kenma’s head. 

Not-Kenma turns, eyes piercing and familiar, but Akaashi is distracted by the half-morphed feline nose where Kenma’s nose should have been, and the tufts of  _ fur _ that he can see along Not-Kenma’s jaw line. Where Kenma’s ears should have been are undefined lumps of flesh.

“Akaashi!” Not-Kenma says, sounding eerily like Kenma. Then, he seems to realize that Akaashi is on the verge of a panic attack, and says, “Don’t freak out.” 

Which, obviously, is very helpful.

For a moment, all Akaashi can do is blink at him. “Don’t… Don’t freak out.” He meant it as a question, but it’s all he can do to echo it. Was this Kenma lookalike serious? Don’t freak out? Really?

“Yes, don’t freak out.” The cat ears twitch in annoyance when Akaashi doesn’t calm down. “I’m still me, Akaashi. I just don’t… you know… look like it.” Not-Kenma looks down at his hands, which are now adorned with retractable, feline claws. Now that Akaashi’s looking, Not-Kenma’s also noticeably smaller than Normal Kenma too. 

Akaashi gets an unreasonably bad feeling about this.

“I’m glad you’re here,” Not-Kenma-but-might-be-Kenma says, “because someone who isn’t trapped here needs to go back to our friends and tell them that Bokuto is too far gone. He’s at the center of this mess and he’s completely out of his mind. They aren’t gonna like it, but enough people are going to spend the rest of their lives as animals as it is. You need to make sure no one else ever comes into this forest.”

He likes to think he’s pretty unshakeable. Some weird things have happened in his life, and he’s fond of the idea that they have made it so regardless of what life throws his way, he can approach it with a rational and logical approach. “Give up?” His voice cracks, and he takes another half-step back. “You want us to give up on all of you?”

Maybe-Kenma nods. “Without a clear idea of what caused this and no way to communicate with Bokuto, there’s no way to get rid of this curse. I tried talking with Terushima, but he can only say specific things and none of them are helpful. Suguru will lose the ability to communicate freely in a couple days.” He turns to address Suguru. “Also, sorry about your tail. I didn’t realize what you meant and you freaked me out.”

Suguru nods his acceptance. “Un… Understand… standable.”

“I’ll lose my ability to communicate in a week or two. I imagine I’ll be a full cat in less than a week. I’m going to miss having thumbs.”

“At… At least… you’ll… have… limbs,” Suguru chokes out and Kenma(?) nods acknowledgement.

“You want me to go?” He hates how unsteady he sounds. He hates how resigned Kenma is, how Suguru isn’t disagreeing with anything he’s saying. Most of all, he hates that quiet, fearful voice in the back of his mind that’s telling him to agree, to run, to go back to the capital and tell his friends that all hope is lost and they need to give up.

Akaashi, through all things, is stubborn. He does not want to give up.

Probably-Kenma shakes his head. “No. This… this is really scary and uncomfortable and I would really like to be around people I know and care about. But you  _ need _ to go. You need to be the link between this forest and the outside world. You need to give Sawamura and Suga closure.”

“I haven’t even tried ye-”

“Akaashi!” Kenma barks, and Suguru retreats a couple paces. “Don’t you think that’s what I said, when Suguru and Kuroo and Terushima tried to convince me of the same thing?! I told them I hadn’t even tried yet, and they  _ told _ me I shouldn’t! They told me to go, and I ignored them! It was pride and desperation and all those things I’m sure you’re feeling too! But  _ listen _ to me.” Kenma is shaking, with fear and with anger and with desperation. “Bokuto is  _ too far gone _ . He’s a monster, Akaashi. He’s giant and scary and volatile. I wanted to save him too, but you can’t. He  _ attacked _ me. He bit me and his bite is what’s turning me into a cat. It’s what turned  _ Sir _ Daishou Suguru into a snake, Sir Kuroo Tetsuro into a cat, and Sir Terushima Yuuji into a caracal. There’s a merchant who’s now a turtle and a young girl who is now a puppy. There’s a rooster and a toad and a horse and a wolf and a cockroach and a stag and a squirrel. All of them were people who believed they first had to try before they could go home and all of them can’t leave this forest now. As long as Bokuto is trapped, so are we.

“But you  _ aren’t _ , Akaashi. You can go home and tell all of our families where we went. That we’re safe. That we’re trapped, but we are not in pain. That is powerful and important and Bokuto would not respect you any less for that choice. To bring closure to all those people is not any small or insignificant burden, it is not meaningless.”

His head hurts. What Kenma’s saying makes sense. There’s no saying that  _ after  _ he delivers the news he couldn’t come back and try, after all. But there are two fears at play: the fear that he will not be able to make it back here again after he leaves, and looking Sawamura, Sugawara, Asahi, Noya, Yachi, Ennoshita, and Tanaka in the eyes and telling them all that Kuroo, Bokuto, and Kenma are lost forever, not to mention all people he doesn’t know and would have to approach and break the news to them that their loved ones are gone forever as well.

“I need to think about it.” More like raise the courage to do what is probably right, but he can’t say that out loud.

Kenma looks to the treetops, ears swiveling intently. “You do not have the luxury,” he says quietly. “Bokuto will be landing soon and you  _ have _ to be out of his range by the time he does. If you leave now, and you run as fast as you can, you should be able to evade him. But you must go, and go now.”

He stands, stepping closer to Akaashi. It is tentatively that he hugs him, as if unsure that Akaashi will let him. “It’s not even a little bit fair, Akaashi. I know that. But thank you for doing it. All of us here appreciate it. We know how hard it is.”

Suguru nods. “S… Sucks… sucks… ass.”

Kenma snorts. “What he said.”

Akaashi doesn’t so much hear as  _ feels  _ the wind smash into his back. He stiffens, barely remaining upright.

Kenma is stiff as a board, pale as a ghost. “Shit,” he hisses. Panic clear in his eyes. “Daishou,” he mutters, command in his voice. “Can… Can we distract him long enough?”

Suguru eyes Akaashi, then whatever it is behind Akaashi, and shakes his head.

“Shitshitshitshitshitshit…” Kenma grimaces. “He snuck up on us,  _ dammit _ … Don’t move, ‘Kaashi. Don’t move.  _ Dammit _ . He might leave us alone if we don’t move.”

Akaashi turns around.

The beast waiting there is easily three, maybe four heads taller than Akaashi and thrice as broad. Covered in silvery gray feathers, the beast has the head of a horned owl and the wings to match, wingspan of  _ at least _ six times Akaashi’s height. The wings sprout from the creature’s vaguely humanesque shoulders, where there are also a set of arms, bulky with muscle and covered in feathers, with talon-like sprouting from the fingers. The legs are massive and end in giant owl feet. It has a wide fan of feathers, making up its tail.

Wide, golden eyes with slitted pupils stare at him, unblinking and unwavering. They look familiar. It hits Akaashi like a galloping warhorse.

_ This _ is Bokuto.

Kenma had not used the term “monster” lightly.

Akaashi is terrified to his core.

Kenma is still swearing up a storm.

Suguru approaches Bokuto. “Sir Bokuto, I-”

A wing slams into the snake, throwing him backward with impressive force. He coughs where he lays, limp against a tree. Kenma steps to stand in front of Akaashi. “Bokuto, you know us. We’re your friends, Bokuto. You would never harm us. Please-”

Bokuto opens his beak and screams in Kenma’s face, the call silencing Kenma, silencing the forest around them. Kenma is gaping. Bokuto grabs him around the middle with one giant owl foot, and moves him aside, more gently than he moved Suguru, but definitely not gently. Kenma collapses on the ground.

Akaashi stands stock still, staring Bokuto in the eyes. He is huge and monstrous and dangerous before him and power drips from the very fiber of his being. He leans down over Akaashi, so close that his beak is almost brushing his nose.

Akaashi doesn’t blink.

This is  _ Bokuto _ .

He forces himself to breathe. Once. Just once, sucking in a deep, filling breath as he closes his eyes. This is  _ Bokuto _ . He does not know monsters, but he does know Bokuto. Bokuto does not understand fear. So Akaashi will show no fear. He opens his eyes again, then offers his hand forward.

“Hello. My name is Akaashi Keiji. Do you remember me, Bokuto?”

The giant hulking mass of feathers and flesh freezes. His beak, which had been threateningly hanging open, closes slowly. He stumbles back a pace, then flies away. 

Akaashi takes another breath. He glances toward Kenma. “Is he gone?” He whispers.

Kenma nods, awe-struck. “He left.”

Akaashi nods in return, unsure what to say. He tries to remember how to breathe normally. His heart is racing loud enough it must be deafening to Kenma.

“He didn’t bite you.”

“He has a chance!” Suguru says easily as he slithers over, and Akaashi’s stomach twists.

“Akaashi, no one else in this forest has faced Bokuto and left unscathed. Do you  _ realize _ what this means?” Excitement isn’t elaborate on Kenma; it isn’t bright, or shining, or dancing. It’s quiet and subtle, notable only in the way he speaks. “You can save us all.”

For someone who was absolutely distressed by the concept of leaving mere moments ago, he’s certainly panicking at the thought of staying. He’s no hero, he can’t save anyone! But then, that’s why he came, isn’t it? No - he came to find a way for  _ Sawamura _ to save everyone.  _ Sawamura _ , who is a trained warrior and definitely the hero type. Back to the original point, he is  _ not _ a hero. He has no idea what the qualifications are for that sort of thing but he’s sure he’s not it; he’s mean, he’s salty, he doesn’t smile enough, he’s too selfish, he has no applicable skills-

“Akaashi Keiji, focus. Calm down.” Kenma’s piercing, tense murmur cuts through Akaashi’s rambling thoughts. “Just… take it one day at a time, okay? Try to talk to him again tomorrow. We don’t know exactly what the stipulations of the curse are anyway. This is the first change in the pattern we’ve seen thus far, though, okay, so both Daishou and I spoke without thinking. We just… We want you to succeed, alright? We’ll do whatever we have to to make it happen.”

He nods. What else can he do?

“C’mon. I’ve got a small clearing that Kuroo and I stay in. You should sleep. You look tired, Akaashi.”

Suddenly exhausted, Akaashi follows Kenma through the trees.

In the back of his mind, Akaashi  _ knows  _ Kenma  _ said  _ Kuroo turned into a cat. But knowing that and seeing the large, frumpled, all black cat inexplicably still possessing Human Kuroo’s wild bedhead which Kenma comfortably calls Kuroo and settles down next to is something else entirely.

“You weren’t kidding,” he mumbles numbly, feeling a little bit like he walked into a strange fairy tale.

Kenma smirks, not needing clarification on what Akaashi meant, fondly stroking Kuroo’s back, using his claws to gently carve soothing paths in his thick fur. “No, not really.” Kuroo  _ brrrups _ , seemingly speaking in time with the conversation. Kenma, like he understands what he said, hums and changes to scratching under his chin.

“You’re going to turn into a cat too?”

Kenma shrugs, pensive. “I already have a tail. Or at least the start of one. And the ears. And claws. Teeth, nose, and whiskers are coming in pretty quick too. I wasn’t able to confirm this until you came, but I’m getting smaller too, aren’t I? Seems like I’m going to be a cat.”

Akaashi shivers. “This is going to be weird.”

When Kenma smiles, Akaashi sees a hint of too-sharp canines. “Yes, it probably is. Kuroo says we’re both stupid for coming here, by the way.”

He shivers again. “Yeah, I know.” He sits, drawing his knees to his chest. He is tired, positively bone-weary, but he doesn’t know how he’ll sleep. He’s in a strange, dangerous place with his friends, but they aren’t the way he remembers them and one of them can’t speak freely and he just had one of the most terrifying experiences of his life and he’s  _ so scared _ of messing this up and frankly, he’s not sure he can do this. Even one day at a time seems like too much to handle.

Kuroo pads over to him, sitting in front of him, front paws resting on his toes. “You can do it,” Kuroo’s voice rumbles out of the much smaller body. “You can save him.” Whatever else he wanted to say is converted into a meow, and Akaashi watches as his little cat features twist in an expression that is undeniably annoyance.

“Kuroo said that he believes Bo is still in there and that he’ll back you up every step of the way. He also says that you may be an idiot, but at least you’re smart.”

Akaashi snorts softly, meeting Kuroo’s gaze. “I don’t feel smart.”

Kenma shuffles, moving over to sit next to Akaashi, their shoulders brushing. “Try not to worry, okay? We’ll all be just fine, no matter what. As dark and unsettling as this forest is, it does provide for all of us. We are warm, well-fed, and alive. Maybe not in the same bodies as we started in, but alive and unharmed. After he bit us the first time, Bokuto hasn’t really come back for us at all. We’re… we’re little more than irritations for him now. Kuroo’s probably gotten the closest with him, but even he has to pick his opportunities very carefully, or Bokuto will throw him across a clearing.”

Kuroo makes an offended noise, and Akaashi breathes a little easier. “I should have ran when you said,” he says to Kenma. “You were right from the beginning.”

Kenma hums. “No, I don’t… I don’t think so. Giving up on all of us would… would have been wrong. I just assumed there was no solution and no way out because no one had found it yet. That doesn’t make much sense, does it? I think your hesitation will be the reason we get to escape here, in the end.”

Akaashi loosens his arms from around his knees. “Is the ground comfortable here?”

Kenma smiles. “Not particularly.”

He nods.

Curling up on his side with his arm bent under his head like a pillow, Kenma settles in, golden eyes on Akaashi. “I don’t know what I’ll look like when I wake up, Akaashi. Don’t forget that I’m still in there, no matter what. Just like Kuroo and just like Bokuto.”

Akaashi nods. “Okay.”

Kuroo meows, then trots back over to Kenma, where he curls up comfortably in his embrace. “He says good night,” Kenma yawns, eyes drifting shut.

“Good night, Kuroo. Kenma.” Stiffly, quietly, he curls up on the ground, shuts his eyes, and eventually falls asleep.

_ His dreams are full of falling. An endless descent into a darkness unlike anything Akaashi has ever known. There’s a question, a question with many answers but Akaashi gets to know neither the question nor the possible answers and he’s falling and there are eyes of all shapes, sizes and colors watching him and he doesn’t know what to do and - _


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Breakfast together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello i am incredibly tired so if there are any glaring spelling/grammar errors i am sorry
> 
> regardless i hope you enjoy!!!
> 
> also happy new years :D

He awakes with a gasp. As soon as his eyes focus, he realizes three things in rapid succession.

First thing: he’s not on the ground, but hovering above the trees. For reasons that should be fairly obvious, Akaashi finds this immensely disorienting.

Second thing: what appears to be the giant foot of a monstrously large owl is wrapped around his midsection, suspending him in the air. Also disorienting.

Third thing: the owner of the giant owl foot is, shockingly, a giant, monstrous owl-person with wings and arms and oodles of grey feathers. 

The squeak he releases as all of these things hit home at once is one of sheer, unadulterated panic. He grips Bokuto’s giant toes as tightly as he can, praying Bokuto doesn’t plan to drop him or bite him or generally do any of the malicious and uncomfortable things one can do with talons thicker than the average man’s forearms. 

“Bokuto-” He chokes out, his panic overwhelming. Bokuto may not understand fear, but he also has wings. Akaashi has neither luxury. Bokuto looks down at him, wide eyes distinctly curious. Akaashi, emboldened by the attention, manages to squawk, “ _ Please _ land. I do… I do not have a head for heights. They-” his words catch in his throat as the wind changes, and Bokuto has to change his flap pattern to adjust, “- make me extremely uncomfortable.”

Bokuto lets out a cry, its intention Akaashi is not in the headspace to determine, before careening toward the earth. Akaashi is not ashamed of the scream he lets out (anyone would scream if they thought they were plummeting to their death in the claws of a giant owl monster), slamming his eyes closed.

The impact he is expecting never comes, though. When he finally dares to open his eyes again, They are hovering a few inches off the ground, and Bokuto is looking at him with unwavering curiosity. 

He takes some deep breaths, tentatively stretching his legs out to put his toes on the ground. Bokuto gently releases him.

“Bokuto,” Akaashi manages, knees shaking. “Why did you pick me up and fly us into the sky?” Now he’s looking around, and he’s only more confused. “And where are we?”

Bokuto’s head cocks to the side. He hops back, wings tucking neatly behind him. He doesn’t look as big now - still undeniably unnatural - but decidedly less menacing. Despite his massive size, his feet don’t make a sound as they hit the ground. With his human arms, he gestures to the clearing behind him.

There’s a giant nest, surrounded by large rocks and logs and a clearwater stream. 

Bokuto had taken Akaashi to his  _ home _ .

Akaashi blinks. This is a lot to process before breakfast. “I see. Why am  _ I _ here, Bokuto?”

Bokuto doesn’t seem to understand, hopping over to one particularly shiny rock that he rubs his face against. He then eyes Akaashi, as if inviting him to do the same. Akaashi holds up a hand in apology, too stunned to really say anything in regards to the activity.

“Can you understand me, Bokuto?”

Bokuto doesn't respond, watching Akaashi like he might attack. Akaashi grimaces - this does not bode well for future interactions. It occurs to him while Bokuto becoming an owl makes sense, and so does the transformation of Kuroo and Kenma into cats, he really doesn't know what animal he'd turn into. Probably a snapping turtle or something equally unpleasant.

Really, he’d just rather avoid the whole mess. So, the priority is to not get bitten until they can figure out a way to fix this.

To avoid getting bitten, he decides, looking around the clearing at the abandoned weapons - he’s pretty sure that’s  _ Kuroo’s _ sword embedded in a tree - and lost clothing articles, the best thing to do is to not be threatening. 

So he does the only thing he can think of. He crosses his ankles and neatly sits on the forest floor, as though he were settling in for a picnic. When he looks up at Bokuto, he finds him staring at him, in something similar to pure confusion. 

Slowly, he hops over to Akaashi, carefully sitting down in front of him, mirroring the fold of his legs. 

Akaashi is not sure he understands anything right now. “Bokuto, are you still in there?”

He hoots, and whether that’s a declination or confirmation, Akaashi is unsure, but Bokuto is excited about it, so he contents himself with that. Whatever the answer is, at least he’s sure about it.

“Do you know why I’m here, Bokuto? In this forest?”

Bokuto cocks a head to one side, but then spasms to his feet and flies away toward the nearest tree. Akaashi takes a deep breath, trying to force patience into the action. This is a curse, after all, of course it wouldn’t be so easy as sitting down with Bokuto and having a simple discussion.

Bokuto returns in a bluster of feathers and fluff. In his beaks, there is a fat, dead bird. Blood drips onto the ground between them. Akaashi cannot even summon  _ words _ . Bokuto, seeing that Akaashi is not going to react in any reasonable manner, drops the bird in front of him.

Akaashi can do nothing but blink in surprise. Bokuto has brought him an up-until-very-recently-living bird. Unrequested, might he add. A  _ bird _ . Which is  _ bleeding _ . 

Bokuto makes something of a cooing noise, and upon realizing that Akaashi  _ still _ does not understand the intention behind this gift, delicately pins the fat bird with one talon, arms tucked neatly to his chest, then rips off one of the legs with his beak, swallowing it whole.

Raw, bloody, feathery, fresh, and  _ whole. _ Bokuto then looks expectantly at Akaashi, backing up a hop to allow Akaashi to take a bite.

“Generally speaking, Bokuto, the invitation to dine together is posed as a question rather than a requirement,” Akaashi manages, a little nauseous. Bokuto cocks his head to one side in a show of confusion. “Also, the food is usually cooked to some degree, at bare minimum.”

Bokuto’s wide eyes widen further and he squawks, hopping around in an excited circle. Akaashi chooses to interpret this as approval and excitement, as opposed to him being offended by the suggestion. “Eating raw meat will make me ill, and should make you ill.” This statement does not seem to resonate with Bokuto as clearly. 

He starts gathering twigs and sticks off the ground. “I will start a fire to cook the bird on,” he says simply, looking at Bokuto. “Can you find me flint?” He then goes and pries Kuroo’s sword from the tree. He’s fairly certain Kuroo won’t mind him using it. Bokuto flies off, supposedly in the direction of flint, but Akaashi would not put money on it, seeing as his vocabulary is seemingly small at best.

Once Akaashi has gathered enough sticks to cook the bird, he patiently awaits Bokuto’s return. He uses the spare time to defeather the bird as best he can (struggling not to vomit - it was already a bloody, nasty mess without Bokuto ripping its leg off) and generally preparing it to be cooked. Bokuto returns as soon as he finishes, dropping  _ numerous  _ rocks at his feet, then shuffling as though awaiting praise.

Shifting through them, Akaashi finds two pieces of quartz, a topaz, a piece of flint, and two lumps of slate. Akaashi holds up the flint for Bokuto to see and smiles gently. “Good job, Bokuto.”

He tries not to jump too visibly as Bokuto squawks and hoots and generally causes a ruckus, presumably in delight. He dances around the clearing, ruffling his feathers and lowering them again. It’s quite amusing, but Akaashi senses it might not be a good idea to laugh at him.

He carefully pieces together a roughly triangular frame, putting dried moss and the thinnest of twigs over top. Then, he takes Kuroo’s sword, muttering an apology to the knight, and strikes the blade with the flint. Sparks fly, and though it takes a couple strikes, eventually a tiny flame catches.

Working steadily and unerringly, Akaashi feeds the tiny flame until it becomes less unstable, until he only has to toss a stick in every few breaths. Once it’s reasonably hot, he skewers what remains of the bird on a particularly sturdy stick (losing the bird to the fire is not a test of Bokuto’s patience that he wishes to attempt today) and holds it over the fire.

Bokuto cries out in alarm, but once he sees that Akaashi is not actually placing the bird  _ in _ the fire, he seems to relax a little bit, unmoving as he stares at Akaashi’s hands and his prey. 

It takes longer than Bokuto seems comfortable waiting, but besides shifting every few moments, he doesn’t flee or scream at Akaashi, so he keeps going. Soon, the outside of the bird is less pink than brown, and the sizzling coming off the bird is making even Akaashi drool. Bokuto seems more excited by the moment, shifting from foot to giant foot. The smell of cooked meat fills the air of the clearing.

Akaashi shivers as Bokuto silently dashes from his spot on the other side of the fire to hover over Akaashi’s shoulder as he takes the bird off the fire, finally convinced it’s cooked enough to be consumed.

He stops Bokuto, only to ensure he doesn’t burn himself in his haste to try the bird. Delicately, elegantly, Akaashi tears off a wing for him, tearing the other leg off for himself. The inside of the bird is juicy and  _ still _ bleeding, but no longer raw, so Akaashi calls that a win. He takes a bite, releasing a breath as the warm meat falls apart on his tongue. 

For a wild bird, cooked on a small campfire with no seasoning whatsoever, it’s actually pretty good. Bokuto watches him like a bird of prey as he slowly chews and swallows. He smiles at Bokuto. “It’s not bad. Try it?”

As delicately as a large bird-beast can do, Bokuto picks up the wing in his foot, using the massive talons in a show of incredible flexibility, and slowly and carefully tears a tiny piece of meat off the bone.

Akaashi’s jaw drops. He had watched Akaashi eat, and was trying to mimic him.

“You’re still in there, aren’t you, Bokuto?” he asks quietly, and he stops eating to stare at him with that golden gaze. “You’ve just forgotten.”

Bokuto blinks at him. A low, rumbling coo exits him. It feels like an affirmation, rumbling into Akaashi.

Akaashi smiles again. “There’s hope after all, then.”

Bokuto eats the rest of the bird in slow, careful nibbles, despite the fact that he’s clearly hungry and enjoys the cooked meat. Akaashi praises his delicacy, his gentleness. Bokuto responds very well to the praise, and Akaashi mentally notes that for later.

Then, Bokuto hops over to his nest, curls up, and falls asleep. Akaashi carefully and quietly cleans up their mess, putting out the fire and tossing the remains of the bird into the forest so as to not draw more animals to their untimely demise at Bokuto’s talons.

He notes the various clothing items around the clearing, then, and gets an idea. Again, doing his best to not wake Bokuto, who would likely be upset by what he is about to do, he grabs a shirt. The cream cotton is embroidered, and might also have been Kuroo’s, or perhaps Bokuto’s himself. Either way, it is relatively untorn and only slightly nasty from laying on the forest floor, so he carefully, with the precision only a stitcher has, picks at the seam until a thread frays out. 

He tests the strength of the thread, pleased when it doesn’t immediately snap between his fingers. He ties the thread to a sturdy looking shoot at the edge of the clearing. Walking backward slowly, he feeds the thread along the path he’s taking, hoping the forest won’t let him down.

He doesn’t see them at first, but the excited  _ mewl _ from a cat tells him all he needs to know. He turns and just manages to catch Kuroo in his arms. Kenma, looking much less human and far more cat, is grinning at him, and manages to teeter to his feet. His legs look mangled and wrong, and it's clear that standing is neither comfortable nor easy for the cordwainer. Akaashi hurriedly helps Kuroo get settled on his shoulders and moves to brace Kenma, giving him a quick hug.

“What happened?!” Kenma says, his voice raspy. He coughs a little, the sound  _ eerily _ cat-like.

“Bokuto kidnapped me,” he replies with a shrug, and Kuroo tenses on his shoulders. “It’s okay. He just wanted to hang out.”

“You’re unhurt? He didn’t bite you?” Kenma is looking him over regardless, golden, piercing eyes scanning him as though he were see-through, or as though he might lie. Akaashi rolls his eyes.

“Yes, I’m very hurt. Bleeding out before your eyes. In immense pain. All of my bones are broken. Definitely on the brink of death.”

Kenma punches him. His fist is only about half the size it usually is though, so it doesn’t do much. “I’m glad you’re okay. I was… I was really worried, Akaashi.”

Akaashi hums his understanding. “I was too, briefly. Bokuto quickly made it clear that he simply desired company, though. We had dinner.”

Kenma looks up in surprise. “Together?”

“He caught a bird, I cooked it.”

Kuroo lets out a  _ mrrrow _ and Kenma nods his agreement. “Kuroo’s right. We don’t have time to be having tea parties. We need to figure out how to fix this curse. Now that we know Bokuto won’t attack you, we can use that to get around him and figure this thing out.”

Akaashi frowns. “On the contrary, I believe that the only way to figure this out is to work  _ with _ Bokuto. He’s still in there. It is as though he’s forgotten who he is. There are many things that I just… don’t think he remembers how to do. Perhaps working with him to regain these lost skills would be beneficial. Perhaps the curse is something more simple and mundane than a grand quest.”

To his mild surprise, Kenma considers the idea for a long moment. “What makes you think that you can teach him these new things? Aside from not mauling you on sight - not that I’m complaining about that - is there any evidence that he is capable of learning? This isn’t some dog or cat - this is the product of magic with mal-intent.”

Akaashi nods. The question makes sense. They didn’t really have time to waste. All too soon, Kenma would lose the ability to converse freely and he would be the only being within the forest capable of free human speech.

“When he first returned with the bird, it was freshly dead and rather disgusting. He dropped it in front of me, tore off a limb, and swallowed it whole.” Kenma’s mostly cat face twists in disgust - even Kuroo’s ears show his distaste. “Then, I showed him how to cook the bird, and took a bite as a normal human would. After watching me, he worked to take small bites. He ate slowly. Even without direct instruction, he proved he is capable of learning by observation and improving his civility.

“There are many aspects of his new form that could be worked on as well,” Akaashi continues, warming to his cause and coolly going over the evidence he had been collecting since the thought had occurred to him. “Bokuto does not appear to use his human arms for anything beyond vague gesturing. He has shown immense flexibility and defaults to the usage of his taloned feet where a person would use their hands. I feel encouraging him to use his arms would prove beneficial and serve to remind him more of the human half of his form.”

Kenma and Kuroo nod, which tells Akaashi they, whether or not they noticed it initially, also had not seen Bokuto use his human arms.

“Bokuto also does not seem to walk like a human, despite still having legs that bend in the same fashion as a human’s do. He hops or flies everywhere. Not that I can particularly blame him for flying - I suppose I would too if I could - but perhaps walking might take some of the beast out of him.”

“You might have to make physical contact to teach him that,” Kenma says with a good deal of concern in his voice. “I’m not sure he would understand what you were getting at otherwise, and getting Bokuto frustrated is never a good strategy, even when he’s human.”

Shrugging, Akaashi wills his cheeks to stay a neutral shade. “I don’t foresee that being a problem, so long as he’s properly made aware the contact is coming. He had no issue grabbing me in my sleep and flying off with me. So long as it’s on his terms, we should be fine.”

Kuroo  _ brrrrups _ and his tail lashes, just once. Kenma turns to Akaashi. “Kuroo wants to know if you have any other options, since initiating physical contact with someone as unpredictable as Bo might be dangerous.”

Akaashi nods. “I’ve got a couple more ideas. The first is getting him more used to being around others. Bokuto is an extrovert. He seems to re-energize around people, whether he knows them or not, and the fact that he’s attacked anyone who’s gotten close seems to be too coincidental in light of the fact that this is a curse we’re dealing with. Getting him, and his victims, to be able to hang out in peaceful harmony might be another factor.”

Hissing, Kuroo turns to Kenma. “Kuroo says that that puts even more people in danger than physically touching Bokuto. I think he’s right.”

Brows furrowing, Akaashi crosses his arms. “If we start small, then the stressors wouldn’t be too many. It would simply be a matter of preparing Bokuto aptly. It’s not impossible and it’s only a little dangerous. We could do it.”

“Any other less dangerous ideas?” Kenma does not sound amused, drawling as though this were some sort of game, but Akaashi is not joking.

“I was thinking of teaching him to talk.”

“What makes you think he even  _ can _ ?”

“Kuroo is a cat. And what can Kuroo do?”

Obligingly, Kuroo says, “Go to Bokuto, Akaashi.”

Akaashi nods. “I cannot speak for you of course, but I don’t know many cats who can do that. There is no evidence to suggest Bokuto, also a victim of this curse, is affected any differently. In fact,  _ unlike _ Kuroo and Daishou and all the others, Bokuto is actually more human. If anything, it is  _ more _ likely that Bokuto is capable of speech than Kuroo and the others are.”

Kenma finally just nods. “I suppose you're right, and worse yet, I don’t… I don’t have any other more concrete suggestions.” He rubs his forehead with the back of his paw/hand. “Gods, this is a pain in the ass.”

Akaashi doesn’t even need Kenma to translate Kuroo’s responding  _ brrrup _ . He’s in total agreement.

“Just remember to stay safe, Akaashi.” Kenma’s gaze is unwavering. “I  _ know _ you’re confident and determined and I know Bokuto likes you differently than anyone else, but you’re still our only connection to the outside world. You need to make sure you don’t get bit.  _ Please _ .”

“I know, Kenma. I will.”

He wanders back to the clearing where he last saw Bokuto, surprised to see him up and pacing. “Bokuto? Are you alright?”

Bokuto’s gaze snaps to him, and he charges, tackling him to the ground roughly and pinning him there. Akaashi groans in pain, heart racing. Kenma  _ just _ told him to be safe, and now Bokuto is about to take him out like that bird they ate? He could almost laugh.

“Bokuto,” he tries again. He doesn’t move any further than that, meeting his eyes. “Bokuto, did I worry you? I apologize. That was not my intent.”

He’s silent for a moment, before letting out a low  _ hoot _ , and releasing Akaashi. He gets up slowly, watching as he returns to pacing the clearing. He frowns. “Bokuto.”

Bokuto looks back at him. His wings twitch sporadically and his hands, where they are pressed against his torso, are visibly shaking. His golden eyes are unblinking.

“Are you okay? Please tell me.”

Hesitantly, as though the movement is awkward and unfamiliar, Bokuto nods. Akaashi releases a sigh of relief, both for the coherent communication and the fact that Bokuto is okay.

“I’m relieved, Bokuto. I was worried.” Even in human form, the easiest way to ensure Bokuto is on the same page, Akaashi found, is to be incredibly blunt in all things. Even if it’s obvious (why else would he ask what was wrong? Of course he was worried), it calms Bokuto down when people are straightforward with him. His anxiety has a much harder time yanking control away from him. “What upset you?”

He releases a series of  _ hoot _ s and  _ caw _ s, all the while glaring at his nest. He puffs up his feathers, hopping up and down threateningly, twice releasing ear-splitting shrieks. Akaashi risks a step forward, trying to see what has Bokuto so clearly worked up.

“Did you not sleep well?”

Despite the fact that Akaashi is pretty sure owls can't make noises like this one, Bokuto lets out a grumbling  _ hoot _ .

So, close, but not quite it. He pressed his lips in a tight line, thinking. Bokuto continues his displeased dance, and an idea hits Akaashi so hard he lets out a shout, which startles Bokuto. "Did you have a  _ nightmare _ , Bokuto?"

Bokuto blinks and stops his dance. He nods again, just as awkward and hesitant as before.

He lets out a breath. That's… that's manageable. "Bokuto, that is perfectly reasonable. There is much to be scared of, as I'm sure you know. It is not surprising that those things that are fearful in this world are also fearful in your sleeping mind." Bokuto looks suitably built up, resettling his feathers and screeching at his nest again. Akaashi thinks, mildly, that the nest did not do anything to deserve this abuse. 

"Remember that you have lots of friends here that all want the best for you. I believe I speak for many of us when I say we would do our best to keep you safe. Your fears are valid, but you do not have to let them control your actions. Do not forget that you are not the same as you once were. In your fear, you might accidentally give nightmares to another. That is undesirable."

(He definitely wasn't talking about himself. Definitely not thinking about how Bokuto charging at him and looking over him with his  _ very _ sharp beak and talons, preparing to rip his jugular from his body was going to give him nightmares for weeks. Definitely not.)

Bokuto settles even further, looking a little disgruntled, before beginning to gnaw on his wing. It takes a moment for the purpose behind this action to hit Akaashi, but when it does - Bokuto is trying to remove the appendages that would scare his friends - it startles a laugh out of him. Bokuto looks up, cocking his head to one side.

"I understand the feeling, Bokuto. I too wish the solution was as simple as that. However, I do not think self-mutilation is necessary, nor an effective fix to the problem. Please do not harm yourself. You may not be the same as before, but you are  _ you _ , and that is more than enough reason to not cause harm to yourself or others. Please."

Bokuto coos, an affectionate and rumbling sound, fluffing and settling his feathers. Akaashi gives him a small smile. "Thank you. Now, are you still tired? You didn't sleep for very long."

Bokuto hops over to him, making lots of squeaking noises and general mayhem. Akaashi takes that as a solid, resounding,  _ NOPE _ .

Akaashi smiles. “Me neither. Would you like to go hunting for berries with me?”

Golden eyes, wide and glittering, grow bigger, and judging by the cacophony of sounds leaving Bokuto, Akaashi takes that as a yes. A very large, very loud, very  _ Bokuto _ , yes. His smile grows. “Excellent.”

It takes them longer than Akaashi would have expected to find some, but eventually they stumble across a wild raspberry bush. Predictably, Bokuto charges right in, but this time, Akaashi doesn’t stop him.

Bokuto tries to pick the berries with his huge taloned feet. The berries are too small, and he ends up crushing them. A little discouraged, he tries to simply bite them off the bush with his beak, but ends up getting poked in the eyes with the branches.

Before his eyes, Akaashi watches his mood sour and his frustration grow. Calmly, quietly Akaashi kneels next to him and begins to pick the berries with his hands. He does not look at Bokuto, does not speak to Bokuto, does not even acknowledge the giant man-creature next to him. Just waits.

It’s not long until Bokuto stops grumbling and posturing, hopping closer to watch Akaashi. He squats down next to him, watching silently as Akaashi picks the berries, then pops a couple into his mouth.

He waits until Bokuto is almost brushing up against his side before turning to face him. He holds out a berry. “Would you like one?”

Bokuto turns his head to the side, neck stretching toward Akaashi’s extended hand. With as much delicacy and caution as Akaashi has seen from him, he grabs the berry with his beak, and swallows it. He seems pleased by the taste and coos his delight. His gaze soon darts back to the berries in Akaashi’s hand.

He leans forward again, but Akaashi withdraws, covering the berries with his fingers. Bokuto sits up in alarm. 

“I would be more than happy to give you another, Bokuto, but I would feel more comfortable if you would use your hands instead of your mouth.” While this is true, there is the ulterior motive of teaching Bokuto to reuse his hands. With more fine motor skills, Bokuto might be able to adapt to more human mannerisms, including communication. Not that what essentially boils down to interpretive dance and hooting isn’t a fun form of communicating, but Akaashi feels that there must be a more efficient method.

Bokuto blinks at him, clearly confused.

“Your hands, Bokuto.”

The repetition does not clear things up.

“Is it okay for me to touch you?”

Bokuto startles again. But he doesn’t make any of the noises Akaashi  _ knows  _ are denials, so he tentatively reaches out and slips his fingers around Bokuto’s hand, gently drawing it away from where it’s tucked against his side. 

As though it isn’t a limb that’s attached to him, and has been from the beginning, Bokuto seems thoroughly shell-shocked by Akaashi. 

The thin layer of downy feathers coating his hand is soft and Akaashi uses this opportunity to study the claws that have replaced his fingernails. He uncurls his fingers, rubbing the newly exposed palm, where there’s a hint of Bokuto’s skin, unfeathered and unchanged. Akaashi smiles.

“There’s much you have forgotten, Bokuto. But there is much that remains unchanged. I still very much so like your hands. They are sturdy and strong and have such warmth and power in them. You always use them to benefit others, to fight for those around you. You have dedicated your life to the protection of another. That is remarkable, Bokuto, in ways you may never realize because of who you are. You brag and boast and tease, but at heart you are a warrior who would give everything for the smallest spark of hope and the tiniest seed of happiness. You have no time, no energy for wondering what others think of your actions.

“I want to help you remember, Bokuto. All the things you’ve forgotten. If you live the rest of your life and never protect a spark of hope again, fate will have done the world a great disservice. I do not know you as well as I would like, and I want the opportunity to know you better. For that, I need  _ you _ back.

“I’m stressed and I’m tired and I don’t know what I’m doing. I can’t understand anything you say, and I’m not entirely sure how much of the you I know I’m actually talking to at any given time. But one day at a time, I’m sure we can do this. I’m sure we can piece this puzzle together. Are… Are you interested in fighting with me for this?”

Bokuto lets out a loud hoot, hopping up and down excitedly, then head-butts him, presumably in his enthusiasm, and Akaashi takes it in stride. He does let out a surprised squeak when Bokuto’s hand, still gently wrapped around his own, squeezes with  _ incredible _ strength.

But Bokuto is so obviously happy, jumping and hooting and clearly concentrating very hard on moving his other arm out from where it is still tucked into his side that Akaashi doesn’t mention it, even though his bones are creaking.

They work for a long time on picking berries, and whatever other small tasks Akaashi can think of to help Bokuto get used to his hands again. Nothing too complex - Bokuto gets frustrated easily and Akaashi has no interest in genuinely pissing him off - but short, simple tasks that get him moving again. 

It’s not easy, nor is it quick, but Bokuto gets better, and every time he improves, something that had been tightening its hold on Akaashi’s lungs loosens its grip. They will get through this. One step at a time.

Suddenly, Bokuto lets out a screech. The stick he was going to pick up to add to his tower (Akaashi had figured out earlier that tasks that had no goal were  _ not _ Bokuto’s favorites) had a large bug on it, and the bug had fled it’s position on the stick to crawl up Bokuto’s arm and the owl beast was  _ not _ a fan.

In his flailing, he knocks down his stick tower. In retaliation, Bokuto eats the bug, swallowing it whole. He lets out a triumphant screech, then sees the state of his carefully and arduously assembled tower, and wails in dismay.

Akaashi takes a deep breath, calmly kneeling and helping Bokuto reassemble the stick structure. There’s a long road ahead.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And so the plot thickens.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> listen i am SO sorry yall had to wait so long i have no excuse
> 
> this chapter is kinda rough? setting up groundwork for the future chapters :) i promise i'm not intentionally abandoning this work for weeks at a time lol inspiration is a fickle thing and classes have started up now so my updates for my wips are gonna be heckin slow :S hopefully i'll be able to get them out somewhat regularly? we'll see i guess lol
> 
> hope you enjoy!!

Daichi grimaces at the bickering coming from outside his door. He stands, opening the wooden door with a harsh frown. 

Suga and Takashi, the guard currently posted outside his chamber door, are glaring at each other. Again.

He doesn’t say a word, gesturing for Suga to come in. It’s not like he could say anything he hasn’t already said to either of them anyway. Suga flips Takashi off as he walks in, radiating fury. Takashi glowers at his back.

Daichi shuts the door with a sigh. 

“He frickin’ said  _ I  _ killed Kuroo and Bo!” Suga snaps, before Daichi can even ask. “He said I wanted them out of the way, so I led them into the woods and snapped their damn necks like the savage I am!”

“I’ll ensure he knows that’s unacceptable,” Daichi murmurs quietly. Then, more loudly, so that anyone who happened to be standing outside the door could hear, “You’re a member of the royal household, Suga, and this sort treatment borders on treason. Knighthoods are revoked for far less.”

If there’s a grumble from outside, neither acknowledge it.

Suga growls, going to sit in his chair at Daichi’s table. He pulls his knees to his chest, wrapping his arms around his legs. “I didn’t kill them. I wouldn’t do that. They’re my best friends.” His voice has gotten very small. “I miss them… so bad, Daichi. I wouldn’t do that.”

Daichi chuckles, going to sit next to him. “Suga, you don’t need to defend yourself. I know that. And even if I didn’t, I trust you. If you said you didn’t do it, I’d believe you. Takashi knows that too, but he’s just being an asshole because he’s third best to Kuroo, Bokuto and Tsushima. Just you wait, Tsushima’ll get out of the healer’s and he’ll be back at the door. Then you can bicker with and physically fight him instead.”

Just like Daichi intended, Suga can’t meet his eyes. “He tried to tell me I can’t go into your quarters because you told him not to let me in. I only broke his arm because he was lying. Which is… almost treason too.”

“Yeah, I imagine he won’t try lying to you again. They’re only on edge because everything is all sorts of screwed up right now, Suga. Try not to take it personally. If I get taken, or transformed, or spelled, or anything on their watch, it could be their lives on the line. Certainly their jobs, and maybe their knighthoods. Yes, they’re directly disobeying my orders by not letting you in. But they’re doing it because they’re trying to ensure my safety.”

“You can take care of yourself,” Suga mumbles.

He laughs, putting a hand on his. “I can. But that’s hardly an excuse my parents will accept if they found out I went missing.”

“I came to tell you I got a letter from Asahi.” It’s not a smooth transition, not in the least, but Daichi lets it slide because Suga looks immensely uncomfortable with the concept of Daichi going missing and Daichi hates making Suga uncomfortable. “He’s coming. Probably will get here in two weeks. He’s pretty good with magic, but he did say that he doesn’t know much about curses. Apparently, his mom didn’t teach him that.”

Magic users are impressively hard to hire, as they all have very niche interests and expect exorbitant payment if you can manage to find one that has the skills you need. Daichi is not in the habit of disbelieving Suga, but it seems impossible that Suga just happens to know a guy. “You sure he won’t want payment? If he’s able to fix this, I’ll be more than happy to pay him.”

Suga nods vigorously. “That’d just make him anxious. Honestly, if you promise to come to his and Nishinoya’s wedding and bring a gift, that’d probably be payment enough. Asahi’s not… not financially driven. He likes to be comfortable, but wealth has little draw for him. It garners too much attention. He’s mortally terrified of criminals. The mere  _ hypothetical  _ of someone attacking him to steal his wealth is enough to make the poor guy faint.”

“Would he want me to just reimburse the money he spent on the trip?” Daichi, having travelled a fair amount now, knows just how costly even a simple town-to-town trip can get. “Then, he’s not losing money, but not gaining either.”

“Chances are, Dai, that as soon as he found out I was moving to the city, he started saving money for any emergencies. Nishinoya and I are really close friends, after all, and Asahi would bring the sun, moon, and all the stars down from the heavens to make Nishinoya happy. He knows Nishinoya would be  _ devastated  _ if something were to happen and they weren’t able to help because they didn’t have the money.” Suga sighs, a melancholy look in his eyes. “I’ll talk to him when this is all over though, and double-check. If he’s hurting at all, I’ll let you know, okay?”

Slowly, Daichi nods. “Okay.”

They sit in silence for a long moment.

“Another battalion was unsuccessful at breaking the tree-line,” Daichi says eventually, just to break the quiet. It wasn’t a comfortable quiet, after all. “It’s like the wood has completely locked down. No more people have been reported missing. It’s… it sounds stupid to say out loud, but was Akaashi the one the curse was waiting for?”

Suga thinks on it. “He has the most unique relationship with Bokuto out of everyone taken. They’re good friends who write one another all the time, and they danced together at that ball. Bokuto has the  _ biggest _ crush on him. Everyone else taken has been a friend of Bokuto, but have any of them had more intimate relationships than that?”

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen Bokuto with a serious interest in anyone quite like he has with Akaashi. He loves me and Kuroo, of course, but that’s more familial than anything. We’re practically brothers. Terushima and him are like brothers too, and he doesn’t spend enough time with any of the villagers to have anything more than casual friendships with them.”

“So maybe Akaashi was the key?” 

Daichi hums, frown deepening the longer he thinks. “This is beginning to sound more and more impossible. First, someone knows where Bokuto is and successfully attacks him and another hyper-competent knight out of nowhere. No warning. Bokuto is a terrible liar and wouldn’t have been able to keep it from Kuroo and I if he knew something was up. Bokuto and Terushima go missing, and no ransom shows up. The kingdom knows, for better or worse, that Bo and I, and Bo and my parents, are close. They could ransom a pretty ridiculous sum, and we would pay it if it meant he was safe, not to mention the safety of Terushima too.

“And then they start taking villagers? Innocent people. Then, we expect a ransom, because we would pay an even more ridiculous sum to keep the people safe. No ransom. Then a random stitcher from a tiny town  _ two weeks _ of solid travel away shows up and suddenly the forest locks down? It doesn’t make any sense. Why haven’t they asked for a ransom? Why hasn’t anyone escaped? Why Akaashi? It just… it doesn’t seem politically driven, so what’s the motive? What changed? Why didn’t they try this while we were travelling the country with minimal guards and almost no contact with the castle? If we had gone missing at that monastery, Suga, no one would have known for  _ weeks _ . They could have done whatever they wanted with us, with Bo.”

Suga seems to realize something, and horror dawns on his features. “Daichi, what… what if they aren’t in the woods anymore? What if the woods are acting like a giant, impenetrable smokescreen?”

“I hadn’t thought of that.” Tension creeps into his muscles and he stands abruptly, clipping his sword to his belt. “I’ll go tell my parents. Get their input and permission to take a battalion of knights around the perimeter of the wood and see what we can find. If they were moving that many people against their will, there’ll be signs.”

“I’m coming too,” Suga stands. His sword, shorter and lighter than Daichi’s but no less deadly, rattles with the movement.

“Okay,” Daichi agrees easily. His priority is to keep his friends safe, which is much easier when they are by his side. “I’ll be back in a bit. Don’t break Takashi’s arms, no matter what he says to piss you off.”

Suga gives him a weak smile. “But legs are okay to snap?”

Daichi snorts. “No. If he’s not in one piece when I get back, there will be consequences.”

“Yeah, you’ll have to hire me as your personal guard, since I’m better than all your knights.” Suga finishes speaking as Daichi opens the door, which means Takashi catches the end of his sentence and glares at Suga as if to say,  _ try me _ .

Instead of waiting for Suga to retort, or Takashi to actually start a physical fight, Daichi just smacks Takashi upside the head, jolting the visor of his metal helmet into falling down over his eyes and temporarily making it more difficult for him to see. “Pick a fight, and I’ll see you’re stuck helping out in the orphanage for moons, Takashi.” He turns back to Suga as Takashi winces and stiffens, glare fading and falling away. “Suga, don’t make Takashi’s life difficult. That’s my job. I don’t pay him enough for two people to mess up his day.”

Takashi snorts, and the tension is broken. Even Suga giggles a little. “You hardly pay me enough for the trouble  _ you _ cause, sire.”

Daichi laughs, slapping him on the back. “That’s the spirit.” He walks away a bit, before turning back. “I mean it. No trouble.”

Suga salutes from the doorway. Takashi gives him a sheepish smile.

Daichi rolls his shoulders, once, twice, trying to ease the tension out of them. He’s got a bad feeling about this, has since the beginning, and it certainly hasn’t gotten any better the longer he goes without seeing either of his best friends. 

He stands before the doors to the throne room, silent for a moment. The knights on guard, Aone and Ushijima, look at him with what Daichi  _ thinks  _ is concern. It’s hard to tell by their expressions - Daichi’s met brick walls with more dynamic expressions - but Aone’s lips are slightly pursed and Ushijima’s brows are slightly further down than normal. Either they’re worried or they’re angry.

Daichi hopes they’re not angry. He can’t take much more.

“Any word from Bokuto or Kuroo?” Ushijima rumbles softly, even though he knows that if there had been even the slightest hint of a word, he would have been one of the first to know. Ushijima isn’t exactly known for his subtlety, so the fact he’s trying says a lot.

“Not yet, but Suga had a thought. Maybe the woods are a smokescreen, and we need to go farther to find them.”

Tense silence falls over the group. It’s Aone, surprisingly, who breaks it. “I’ll analyze the maps. See where they could have gone, and where someone might have recognized them.”

“I’ll begin organizing search parties, operating under the assumption His and Her Majesties will agree with Advisor Sugawara’s assessment,” Ushijima nods. “I presume you will want to be a part, Daichi?”

“Me and Suga,” Daichi says, not breaking eye contact so Ushijima won’t argue with him. For all the teasing he does, Suga  _ is _ a competent swordsman and above average in hand-to-hand combat. He’s got a sense for how people move that Daichi will never have.

“Understood,” Ushijima and Aone say in unison. It used to kind of scare Daichi, how frequently the two of them were on the same wavelength, but it sort of makes sense. They’re men cut from the same cloth, and they spend a lot of time together, working in tandem toward a common goal. Of course, they would begin to sync up more.

A couple, young and the one very pregnant, pushes their way out of the throne room, tears on their cheeks.

Daichi can’t tell if they got good news or bad news.

Not a good sign.

He doesn’t wait to be announced, just pushes his way inside.

Akaashi sighs as Bokuto hisses and snaps at his giant owl feet. “Bokuto, your feet are not to blame. If everyone were to amputate limbs that frustrate them the moment they are frustrated, no human would make it out of infancy. You know this. Take a deep breath. You are trying to do something very human with appendages that are not human at all. You are doing amazing.”

Bokuto’s feathers ruffle a bit in pride at that - Akaashi had discovered early on in their friendship that Bokuto takes  _ very _ well to praise, especially praise that was rooted in honesty.

He would have continued - tried to offer advice, or further compliments to soften the frustration further, but there’s a loud aching groan that cracks through the forest and every leaf on every tree and bush seems to tremble.

Akaashi looks at Bokuto. Bokuto looks just as surprised as he is.

Akaashi bites his lip. “Bokuto, I-”

A crack, like a tree snapping in half, makes Akaashi jump.

“What is that?” He finally says, but Bokuto looks on edge. “Bokuto, I need to go check on our friends. Would you like to come with me, or are you okay to make it back to your nest on your own?”

Bokuto cocks his head to the side, hissing as another groan rattles the forest.

Akaashi feels all the muscles in his body tense. “Bokuto, I need to go back to Kenma and Kuroo. We don’t know what’s making that sound, and I need to make sure they’re safe and well. Are you coming with me, or are you going back to your nest?”

Bokuto shakes himself like a wet dog, then hops closer to Akaashi, a determined gleam to his gaze.

“Coming with,” Akaashi nods. “You have to promise me you’re not going to attack anyone, Bokuto.” He starts treading back the way they came, praying the forest wouldn’t let him down. 

Bokuto makes an affirmative hoot, which Akaashi does not necessarily trust, and hops along behind him. Akaashi can feel his breath on the back of his neck. 

It takes them longer than it has in the past, which does nothing for Akaashi’s nerves, but slowly he starts seeing familiar territory. He walks faster, Bokuto cooing what is probably supposed to be calming coo behind him, but he doesn’t acknowledge it.

The sigh of relief he releases when he sees Kenma, smaller than before, knees fully backward, leaning against a tree. His cat ears flick back at their approach, and he turns.

“Akaashi,” he sighs, then spots Bokuto behind him and goes preternaturally still. “What is he doing here.”

“He came with me to check on you. We heard that rumbling and wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“He’s a beast, Akaashi. I know you want to help him, but he can’t…” Kenma coughs, wincing. “He can’t be trusted.”

Kuroo steps out from the bushes, and Bokuto’s attention snaps to the lanky black cat. 

Bokuto blinks, just once.

Kuroo freezes.

“Kuuuu… rooo…” Bokuto rumbles, and Kuroo’s ears flick up.

Kenma, too, stiffens. “Did he… just…”

Bokuto hops forward, which clearly scares the ever-loving hell out of both Kenma and Kuroo, but Bokuto’s body-language doesn’t change.

Akaashi watches in amazement. “He’s remembering,” he says softly. Both cats flick an ear toward him.

“Ku.. roo,” Bokuto mumbles again, lowering his head slowly to be level with Kuroo’s head. His tail flares out to help him balance. “Kuroo,” he says finally and Akaashi’s eyes burn.

He spoke. He remembered and he  _ spoke _ .

Bokuto turns and hops over to Akaashi, wailing. Before Akaashi can really process what’s about to happen, Bokuto has buried his massive, feathery head into Akaashi’s chest, almost knocking him over. 

His hands hover over the grey feathers. When Bokuto doesn’t move, he tentatively strokes over them. Bokuto shudders, pressing closer. He stays there, still wailing, and Akaashi finally realizes what’s happening.

“He’s  _ remorseful _ ,” he whispers, and Kenma and Kuroo’s jaws drop. “He’s sorry,” he says and Bokuto lets out a hoot of agreement.

“Bokuto,” Kuroo says, and Bokuto straightens, almost hitting Akaashi in the jaw with his massive head.

Bokuto hops back over to him, settling on the ground like an owl would. He hoots, quiet and gentle.

“Bokuto,” Kuroo says again, tail lashing with frustration. He  _ murrows _ , pawing at the ground. 

“He can’t say what he wants to say, but he forgives you, Bokuto,” Kenma says quietly. “He’s sorry he startled you. He wants to help you. He knows you can break this curse.”

Bokuto lets out a mournful hoot. “Kuroo…” His brows furrow, and the feathers on his back raise and resettle.

Akaashi doesn’t know what’s about to happen. The air is tense. He shares a glance with Kenma.

It’s awkward, tentative, unnatural, the way that Bokuto’s arm peels away from his side. Akaashi’s eyes widen, and only get wider as Bokuto reaches out and scratches Kuroo behind the ears. 

Kuroo starts purring immediately.

Bokuto lets out a happy little chirp. “Kuroo,” he says again, “Kuroo.” He looks over at Akaashi. “Kuroo!” he says, louder. “Kuroo!”

Akaashi chuckles. “I know, Bokuto. Kuroo. Does it feel good to speak and be understood?”

Bokuto rumbles cheerfully, stroking down Kuroo’s back. “Kuroo.”

“This is what we’re fighting to fix, Bokuto,” Akaashi says gently. “We’re trying to help Kuroo and Kenma.”

He coos, his gaze flicking over to Kenma.

Kenma stiffens.

“Ke… Ke…” He grumbles. “Ke…. ah.”

Akaashi smiles. “He’s trying to say your name, Kenma.”

The forest cracks again, and this time, it is not ignorable. Kuroo and Kenma’s eyes flash.

They flash green.

As one, they turn in the same direction, their bodies eerily still. “We should go that way,” they say in perfect unison, and Akaashi feels a tremor through the ground.

He looks at Bokuto, but Bokuto looks just as unsettled.

“We should  _ not _ ,” Akaashi offers, since neither Kuroo nor Kenma are moving or looking away. “I think that that would be a remarkably poor decision.”

“We should go that way,” they say again, and Kuroo takes his first step toward the sound.

“Absolutely  _ not _ ,” Akaashi repeats and as soon as Kuroo dares lift his paw off the ground, Akaashi scoops him up into his arms. Kuroo looks utterly disgruntled, but his eyes seem to clear. He lets out a soft murrow.

Kenma takes an awkward step, and Bokuto explodes into movement.

Akaashi blinks. Bokuto, hovering just above the ground, has Kenma in his grasp.

Kenma looks  _ very _ confused.

“Um… Why are you guys holding us?” Kenma asks, a moment later, when no one else breaks the silence.

Bokuto lets out a chirping hoot. Kenma shudders. Bokuto continues with a series of hums and purrs.

“What he said,” Akaashi sighs. “What the hell, guys?”

Kenma and Kuroo blink at him. “What do you mean?”

“So neither of you remember trying to go toward that sound?”

They blink again.

“I’ll take that as a no.”

Kuroo meows, pawing at Akaashi’s face. Akaashi looks to Kenma.

“He’s asking why you both picked us up, and says that being carried like that feels weird.” Kenma supplies, then looks up at Bokuto. “Can you please put me down?”

“We picked you up because you were acting like you were possessed and weren’t listening to me. It was creeping us both out.”

Bokuto, in a surprising display of cognizance, sets Kenma down.

The green flash strikes again as soon as Kenma touches the ground. He only has the time to take one step toward wherever it is he’s possessed into going before Bokuto scoops him back up.

Kuroo meows his distress. Kenma blinks blearily at him, and then up at Bokuto.

“This poses a problem,” Akaashi says, because, once again, no one else is saying it.

Kuroo chirps, and Bokuto hoots.

Kenma blinks. “Kuroo said I started acting weird as soon as I touched the ground. Does… Does that mean...”

Akaashi looks down at Kuroo, who has gone very still. “Do you mind if I test our theory?”

Kuroo chirps, and starts wiggling, just enough so Akaashi knows he approves.

As soon as Kuroo’s paws touch the forest floor, his eyes flash and he tries to walk toward whatever is drawing them in. Akaashi is quick to snatch him back up.

“What… What does this mean?” Kenma asks quietly. “What do we do?”

Akaashi bites his lip. “What  _ can _ we do?”

Kuroo mrrows.

“He says that we need to get working on some hammocks.” Kenma sounds exactly as amused as Akaashi is by that request. 

“I hate to say it,” Akaashi sighs, “but Kuroo might be right. We can carry you for now, but Bokuto and I both need to sleep sometimes, and we don’t know for certain that it won’t get stronger. What if it starts affecting me? Or Bokuto? We need a plan.”

“Can you plan for something like this?”

Kuroo lets out a thoughtful, hesitant meow. Bokuto hoots with urgency.

“Kuroo says maybe we should try and see where it is the forest wants us to go, but I have  _ no _ idea what Bokuto’s saying.”

Akaashi meets Bokuto’s gaze. He hoots again. 

“Something’s not right. He doesn’t want us to follow it,” Akaashi says, after studying him for a moment. “He thinks it’s a bad idea.”

Bokuto hoots in clear agreement.

Kuroo meows, but the noise is sharp and displeased.

“Kuroo doesn’t understand what other options we have,” Kenma says, frowning, though the expression is more than strange on his all-too-feline features. “The last time I told you you were wrong, you proved otherwise  _ really _ fast, but I don’t think… I don’t know what else we can do. This isn’t a permanent solution. We need to find out why this is happening, and the only way we can figure that out is by playing along long enough to put the pieces together.”

Bokuto hisses, and judging by the surprised mewl Kenma lets out, he probably squeezes him dangerously tight. He hoots aggressively, over and over, at Kenma then at Akaashi.

“Bokuto, it’s called discussion. There’s no need to get so distraught. No decisions have been made. Besides, this will be a group decision, as it impacts all of us. I am no more in charge here than you are.”

Akaashi doesn’t say that he’s scared, or that Kuroo is a big cat, and therefore very heavy, or that Bokuto’s stamina can only last so long, and Kenma is even heavier than Kuroo, or that Bokuto wouldn’t be protesting this strongly unless he felt he had a valid reason to, or that Kenma only has so many days until both Kuroo and him would be meowing and there would be no one to translate for them. He doesn’t say that this is a group decision, but that they’re all expecting him to come up with the final solution, that for whatever reason, the magic entrenching this forest somehow changes when it comes to him, and that’s a lot of pressure to put on a random stitcher from a tiny town nestled in the mountains.

Instead, he shifts Kuroo so he can lay across his shoulders. He shakes his arms out, then takes a deep breath. “I am undecided,” he says finally. “I agree that other solutions aren’t coming to mind easily. However, I also understand that Bokuto would not protest this much unless he truly believed it would endanger us.”

They all stare at him.

“You all are looking at me as though I should have the answer,” he says, quiet. “I don’t control you. You are all adults. If you are certain that you think this is the right choice, Kuroo, Kenma, then neither I nor Bokuto will stop you.” 

That clearly does not please any of them - Kuroo even goes so far to prick his claws against Akaashi’s shoulders - so Akaashi continues. “My thought is that we head in the direction that you appeared to be heading and see what we can find. That seems to be the best compromise between the two. As long as Bokuto and I both remain clear-minded, the threat is lessened.”

“We’re stronger as a unit,” Kenma says quietly. “I’m sorry that we’re putting this on you. You… You’ve just been very… lucky, I guess, with your decisions. You’re pretty smart, Akaashi. You’re a good leader. And, I like your suggestion. I agree. It’s a good compromise. What does Bokuto think of it?”

Bokuto grumbles, but doesn’t protest nearly as much, and Akaashi takes a deep breath. “Kuroo?”

Kuroo purrs.

“Kuroo says sure. He said being possessed was uncomfortable anyway, he just wasn’t going to say anything.”

Akaashi smiles. “Haha, Kuroo.”

Kuroo brrups cheerfully.

Bokuto lets out another hoot, the tiniest bit frustrated.

“Is Kenma getting heavy?” Akaashi asks, and Bokuto shakes his head, but Akaashi doesn’t believe him at all.

“Let’s get moving,” he says, and they begin a slow walk toward the mystery beacon.

The forest creaks around them, louder and louder.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The pressure builds.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me? not updating for a whole month and then posting two chapters in the span of four days? what? no way i would never be so inconsistent no way never
> 
> Anyway
> 
> I have a question for yall!!! This is a VERY tentative maybe, but if I were to try and do art for this... like character designs and whatnot... would yall be interested in seeing that? or not? if yall say no i'm not gonna be offended lol i was just curious :)

There’s a castle in the forest.

A castle  _ made _ of forest. Tall trees twining together, towering high to make impenetrable walls of moss and bark and thick trunk. The ramparts are protected by thorns, thousands upon thousands of thorny limbs, and knotholes in the tree trunks have become windows. There’s a moat of leaves; greens, yellows, browns, reds, oranges. An intoxicating view as they ripple around the castle. There’s a drawbridge, moss holding pebbles of all shapes, colors, and types while chains of daisies prepare to hoist it up and down. Flowers line the path up to the castle gates.

It’s truly a magnificent sight, but Akaashi can’t appreciate the beauty.

Terror, true terror, is easy to read on any living thing and Bokuto is no exception.

It’s not surprise on his features, not mere anxiety. When he looks at Akaashi, his eyes show him just how horrified he is. There’s nothing but mortal terror in his expression. His breathing is labored. Kenma, who had since shifted to ride piggy-back, looks concerned, gaze darting between the forest castle and Bokuto, who appears to be on the brink of a nervous breakdown.

Kuroo meows.

Kenma meows back.

Akaashi’s breath catches. It’s too soon. He can’t lose Kenma’s advice yet. Not yet.

Kenma seems to notice his fear, and holds up a hand to calm him. “I can still speak. I just… I just have to focus a bit harder now. Don’t freak out.”

His chest loosens again. Kuroo looks up at him, sweeping his forehead with his tail from where he lays across Akaashi’s shoulders. He purrs, and a little more tension seeps out of his shoulders.

“Kuroo’s right,” Kenma says. “Even when we both stop being able to talk, we’re still gonna be here. Just because we can’t talk and we’re… you know… missing opposable thumbs doesn’t mean we’ll ditch you.”

Akaashi takes a deep breath. “Is it weird not having thumbs?”

Kenma holds up his hands, showing off where his thumbs have started to retract into his hands. It’s kind of horrifying, but Kenma regards his reality with a calm curiosity. “It’s… weird, that’s for sure.”

“Does that hurt?” He nods toward him.

Kenma blinks at him. “Not really. My knees changing directions felt… weird, I guess, but it didn’t really hurt. It just feels wrong, more than anything.”

Akaashi hums, but realizes Bokuto’s expression hasn’t changed.

“Bokuto?” He prompts, quietly. 

Bokuto roars at him.

Akaashi stiffens.

“Shit,” Kenma whispers. 

Bokuto lets out another monstrous roar at the castle, then takes off. Kenma is thrown off in the violent motion, and hits the ground awkwardly. 

Kuroo lets out a loud cry, as Kenma, with an unnatural stiffness, stands, then starts taking measured steps toward the castle of trees. It’s only because Akaashi can sense what Kuroo’s about to do the exact moment he realizes what’s happening that he’s able to grab Kuroo’s tail and one of his front legs, stopping him from leaping down and chasing after him.

“Kuroo, you chasing him is going to help nothing and no one,” Akaashi snaps, and Kuroo hisses at him, but relaxes back into his position on his shoulders. Once Akaashi is convinced Kuroo isn’t going to leap off the moment he shifts his focus, he calls for Kenma.

Kenma’s ears don’t even flick his direction.

Jogging to catch up, Akaashi snags Kenma’s bony wrist, which is covered in a thin layer of light brown fur.

Kenma gives him no warning, raking razor sharp claws along the back of Akaashi’s hand before he can blink. Akaashi cries out, burning pain sparking up his arm. Without flinching, Kenma dully turns back toward the castle and continues his plodding path.

Kuroo murrows loudly, either in shock or in frustration, Akaashi can’t tell. 

Blood is dripping off his hand in hot thick droplets and tingles his skin as it streams down his hand. The wounds themselves, five in total, ache with a vengeance. He shakes his hand as though he can coax the pain to fall from his hand like sand.

Kuroo meows again, with urgency, tail lashing. Akaashi sends him a dark look. “Give me a second,” he growls, jogging to catch up to Kenma again. “It’s not like I  _ told _ him to claw the shit out of my hand, Kuroo.”

Kuroo has the decency to look a little ashamed at that, but his eyes are focused on Kenma.

Akaashi reaches for him again, hesitating. Where can he grab? Where can’t Kenma reach?

He reaches out and grasps the back of Kenma’s shirt, pulling him back sharply as to throw him off balance. When Kenma’s arm flies up and back to scratch at Akaashi, Kuroo digs his back claws into Akaashi’s shoulder, lunging forward to latch onto Kenma’s sleeve, pulling in and pinning Kenma’s hand to Akaashi’s shoulder. Kenma yowls his fury.

In a moment of clarity amidst the chaos, Akaashi thinks,  _ why do  _ I  _ have to be the scratching post? _

This moment passes quickly as he has to dodge another of Kenma’s vicious swipes. 

Step by step by painfully stolen step, they manage to get Kenma further and further away from the castle. At one point, Kuroo has his front claws latched in one sleeve and his back claws latched in the other, which Akaashi pulls at the back of his shirt and his hair, yanking him back harshly enough that he mutters apologies with every tug. He hates the pained squeaks that leave Kenma.

Kenma fights like his life depends on it though, more than once swinging his mostly feline legs up and clawing at Akaashi with his two thirds paws which are too adorned with sharp, ragged claws. 

He catches Akaashi once across the cheek with such a swipe, and Kuroo doesn’t dodge fast enough twice so he now has mirrored scratches along his shoulder and haunch.

Once the castle is out of sight, however, Kenma slowly gets less violent. He still wants to head toward the castle, pulls against Akaashi’s grip, but he stops clawing, stops hissing and yowling. It takes something more akin to gentle tugging to get him to give ground, and Akaashi can finally stop yanking on his hair.

Kenma’s gaze won’t shift from where the castle is on the horizon, but once they get far enough away, he stops fighting altogether. If Akaashi lets go, he’ll start walking, but as long as Akaashi’s holding his arm or his shirt, he’ll simply stand, dull and empty.

“Kenma?” Akaashi tries. The sun is sinking low, low, low, and frankly, Akaashi is exhausted. Emotionally, physically, mentally. It had been a long day, and he’s hurting and sore and he doesn’t want to keep fighting his friend. Not to mention the fact that he has  _ no _ idea where Bokuto is. 

Kenma doesn’t blink.

Kuroo meows, low and soft. Kenma’s ears twitch, but nothing further.

“I don’t know what to do,” Akaashi says softly. “What would you do, Sir Kuroo? Tie Kenma up? What if he gets loose while we’re asleep? Make a hammock? But how am I supposed to carry you, hold him still,  _ and _ make a hammock? And even if I could do that, what do I make one out of?”

His throat is tight, but he’s not about to cry, so he takes deep breaths until his eyes stop burning. “Where is Bokuto? What was he so scared of?” He pauses. “We made such good progress today. We got so far. Did… Did I ruin it by suggesting we go to the castle?”

Kuroo is silent, but his tail brushes Akaashi’s cheek in a comforting manner.

“If I wasn’t so damned tired, I would try carrying you both, but…” he bites his lip. “I’m not strong like that.  _ You’re _ heavy for me, Kuroo, and you’re just a cat. Kenma’s still mostly human-sized. What… What do I do?” He clenches his jaw, wincing as the motion makes his clawed cheek twinge.

“How…” He swallows a sob before it gets free. He’s sure Kuroo can hear the labored swallow. “How am I supposed to help everyone... if I can’t even help you two? What… What is even happening? What does that castle mean? Why… Why is there even a castle? Why is it made of trees? What… What… How…?” He stammers into silence, his head spinning.

Too many questions, nowhere  _ near _ enough answers.

Kenma’s dull gaze finally turns to Akaashi, and Akaashi almost lets that trapped sob free right then and there. Slowly, Kenma raises his paw/hand, and points in the direction of the castle. “We should go there,” he says, low and void of emotion. His gaze drifts back to where he was pointing.

Hope dies like a small bird with a broken neck in Akaashi’s chest.

“Shit,” he murmurs, like that tiny, pointless word could somehow ease his hurting heart.

Kuroo growls, at Kenma, Akaashi realizes a moment later, and everything  _ hurts _ . Kenma doesn’t respond.

He tries to breathe. “There’s a lot we can’t do right now, so let’s focus on the things we can do,” he says, trying to sound sure and falling miserably short. “We need to find Bokuto. With… With a second set of hands, we can probably… We can figure something out.”

Kuroo gives him a questioning meow, ever so gently pawing at Akaashi’s shredded cheek.

Akaashi sighs. “I don’t know. I… I don’t know exactly what you’re asking me either, I guess, but I don’t know. I don’t know if Bokuto will care, I don’t know if it’ll heal, I don’t know if him clawing me is enough to start my own transformation into an animal… I don’t know.”

With a rumbling purr, Kuroo settles on his shoulders again.

“When we find Bokuto,” Akaashi continues, “I’ll be able to clean and wrap the cuts Kenma gave you.” It’s slowly getting easier to pretend to be confident now. “We’ll find a little creek and go camp at Bokuto’s nest. Now that we know he can handle being around the two of you, we should try and stick together. Clearly, being around people he’s familiar with helps.”

Kuroo meows, but without Kenma, it does little to add to the conversation.

With a shuddering sigh, Akaashi forces his legs to move, pulling Kenma along by the wrist behind him.

The crescent moon is halfway to its peak when they arrive at Bokuto’s nest.

They had been searching for Bokuto, calling for him, looking for any trace of his feathers or footprints, and had found  _ nothing _ .

But there’s a large, grey lump of feathers in Bokuto’s nest.

If Akaashi weren’t exhausted to the marrow, he might actually break down crying.

Bokuto perks up at their approach, charging toward them so fast that even Kenma flinches.

He stops a breath away from Akaashi, the tip of his beak almost touching Akaashi’s nose.

Akaashi meets his gaze unflinchingly, too worn out to be scared or uncertain.

Bokuto coos, an apology and a question.

“I am very tired, Sir Bokuto,” he says simply. “And I am hurt. Please pick Kenma up off the ground and allow Sir Kuroo to sit on your shoulders for a moment. I would like to clean and bandage mine and Kuroo’s wounds.”

Bokuto’s wide eyes flick to the bloody scratches on Akaashi’s cheek, then to the pink flesh peeking through Kuroo’s thick black fur. His feathers ruffle.

“If you had not dropped Kenma, this would not have happened,” he says, not bothering to hide the accusation in his tone. Kuroo stiffens on his shoulders, tensing to undoubtedly flee. “The least you can do is help me now.”

Bokuto freezes too, a low cry oozing out of him. Sorrowful, quiet.

“Please pick Kenma up.” Akaashi says again. It’s too late at night for dallying, and Akaashi wants nothing more than to wash the dried blood off of his hands. Bokuto glances at him, guilty, then at Kenma.

Gracelessly, he throws Kenma over his shoulder.

Akaashi takes a deep breath, flexing his hands.

“What… What… happened?” Kenma groans, wriggling a bit. “Gods, everything  _ hurts _ .”

Akaashi keeps the irritation from flickering across his features using his last bit of willpower - Kenma has no way of knowing that he’s caused just as much pain as he’s in, after all - before sighing. “Kuroo will tell you about it. I need to find a stream. I will return in a bit. Sir Bokuto Koutarou, don’t you  _ dare _ set either of them down.” He means it to be a threat, but there’s not a lot he can threaten a giant owl beast with, so he leaves it hanging in the air between them.

Bokuto doesn’t make a sound.

Akaashi moves so Kuroo can jump onto Bokuto.

When the black cat is crouching awkwardly on Bokuto’s broad, feathered shoulders, Akaashi turns on his heel and walks away.

When he sits beside the quietly gurgling creek, for the first time since the woods first cracked, he takes a deep, painful breath. His eyes burn. His throat swells.

He doesn’t cry, not really. Just keeps breathing as deeply as he can while tears stream down his face and his throat hurts feels like it’s peeling itself apart from the inside out. 

He washes his hand first. The claw-marks are deep and the cool water hurts, but he grits his teeth and just focuses on making sure none of his tears drip into the cuts. The salt would certainly burn.

Washing his face is next, and even more painful than his hand, but he takes his time, dipping his face under the water and leaving it there for long moments, until his lungs beg for air. The water is quiet, uncomplicated. He remembers when his life was like that too. When he wasn’t trapped in a magic forest fighting a curse that he doesn’t even know the conditions of. When there weren’t the livelihoods of over a dozen people depending on him.

What a time.

Self-pity doesn’t suit him, though, so he allows the emotions to wash over him, all the stress, all the fear, all the pain, then he dips his head beneath the water and lets the stream take those feelings away. 

When he pulls his head out of the water, he feels empty, but clear-headed for the first time all day. He runs his hands through his hair, shaking some of the water out. When he draws a new breath, it doesn’t hurt so bad. His hand is no longer coated in cracked, dried blood. He’s washed the sweat from his face. He’s drunk some water. 

He’s okay. This is hard, but he can do this. Learning to sew was hard too. This is hard. Life is hard. But he can do it. He can do this.

By the time he’s released the breath, he’s sure he’s okay. He stands, feeling around his eyes to make sure they aren’t still puffy.

Then, he walks back to his friends.

The way all three beast people look up at him, all concerned, is nothing short of comical, but Akaashi doesn’t smile. “Hello. I’m glad to see you are all still in one piece.”

Kenma doesn’t meet his eyes. He’d shifted so he’s now sitting on Bokuto’s shoulder, an arm tentatively wrapped around Bokuto’s head to keep him balanced. “Akaashi, I’m… I’m so sorry…”

If Akaashi isn’t mistaken, his voice is raspier than it has been, which… which means…

He catches a glimpse of Kenma’s golden eyes. Red. He’d cried.

“It wasn’t your fault, Kenma,” Akaashi says softly. “You did nothing that won’t heal.”

Kenma does look up at that. “The cuts aren’t the only thing I’m apologizing for,” he says, in that piercing way only he can do.

Akaashi smiles at that. “I know.”

Kenma shifts uncomfortably. Kuroo meows loudly from where he’s cradled in Bokuto’s arms.

“He wants to apologize and to tell you that he would hug you if his limbs were long enough.”

Akaashi snorts. “You don’t need to, Kuroo. There’s no point in any of us apologizing. It’s not like any of us did any of this intentionally.”

Bokuto caws, not as loud as before, then follows it up with a coo.

“I have no idea what that means, but I’m sorry I snapped at you.” He meets Bokuto’s eyes. “That was not fair, especially since you are not able to defend yourself. That said, you should not have shouted at me. That was also unfair.”

Bokuto rumbles, and it sounds like agreement. Meek, perhaps, but agreement.

Akaashi opens his arms, inviting Kuroo into them. Kuroo hops over, taking up his perch on Akaashi’s shoulders.

“Let’s go get some water, hmm?” He says. He doesn’t mind the quiet. It probably feels awkward to them, but for the first time all day, his head is just as quiet as his surroundings. It’s late at night, the moon is past its peak, he’s so, so, so tired, but his friends are safe, if only for one moment more.

He layers the abandoned clothes over the forest floor, layer after layer, until there’s plenty of room for both Kuroo and Kenma to stretch out.

Now, for the moment of truth. Kuroo hopes from Bokuto’s shoulders to Akaashi’s (though he’s only had a little practice, he’s getting pretty good at it) and makes eye contact with him. Bracing to scoop Kuroo back up, he watches as Kuroo lightly jumps down on the clothes.

He lets out a triumphant  _ brruup _ as nothing happens.

“Thank the gods,” Akaashi sighs, flopping down on the ground. “I’m sleeping. Don’t wake me for at  _ least _ three days.” His eyes slip closed.

He hears Kenma settle down on the clothes next to Kuroo, groaning softly at his sore muscles. He’d admitted earlier that his struggling had resulted in multiple pulled muscles, not to mention that his scalp aches from being yanked on all afternoon.

Akaashi can’t find it in himself to apologize just yet. Every time a tendon in his hand so much thinks about moving, his whole hand twinges in pain.

Kenma settles eventually, and quiet breathing fills the little clearing. 

That leaves one body unsettled.

Akaashi had figured out early on that Bokuto, when he wanted to be, could be ridiculously stealthy. He attributes the fact that he doesn’t leap clear out of his skin to the fact that he’s so tired, and now that he's horizontal, it’s all he can do to stay awake.

Bokuto crouches beside him - he only knows because his feathers brush his arm. The beast is otherwise silent. A warm wing wedges itself under Akaashi’s head, an arm around his shoulders, burly legs pressing into his. Bokuto gently rolls Akaashi onto his side, and pulls him against him, cuddling him.

He’s warm, soft, safe. He doesn’t have time to overthink it.

Two breaths later, and Akaashi is fast asleep.

The morning, as mornings often do, brings new challenges.

Kenma’s shrunk again, dramatically. Standing upright, his head would be even with Akaashi’s hip, maybe, but his hips are making the slow transition from bipedal to quadripedal, so he’s stuck in this halfway stage. He only wears a shirt now - he’s swimming in it and it’s plenty large enough now to hide everything Kenma would prefer to remain hidden.

Kuroo’s antsy, and hungry. He’d gotten accustomed to hunting, whether for berries or mice, and being trapped to whatever area they can cover with clothes limits those possibilities considerably.

Bokuto is awkward and obviously still feeling guilty after yesterday. He’s hovering close at Akaashi’s elbows, trying to help, trying to comfort.

“First things first,” Akaashi says firmly, “we need to find out exactly what the deal with that castle is. I think our best shot is Kuroo.”

Kuroo blinks, clearly not expecting that. His head cocks to one side, and he sits at attention.

“Kuroo can only say things that abide by the curse’s rules, right? So whatever he  _ can _ say is in accordance with the rules. Whatever he can’t say is in contradiction of those rules. So, whatever he  _ can _ tell us about the castle might give us hints as to what he  _ can’t _ tell us.”

Kuroo’s tail wags in excitement. Akaashi can see the question in his eyes.

“Just say whatever you can. Go through all the variations. Everything. I’m going to do my best to piece this together.” When Kuroo’s stomach growls fiercely, Akaashi turns to Bokuto. “Could you please hunt something for us to eat? Enough to feed all of us? I can help cook once you have everything.”

Bokuto dashes off into the trees, desperate to please.

Kuroo begins.

At the start, it’s mostly different ways of telling Akaashi that he should find Bokuto.  _ Go to him. Save him. He’s in trouble. _ Creepy encouragement.

Slowly, he transitions to things that Akaashi hasn’t heard yet.  _ Bokuto is a monster. The answer is in the forest. You hold the key. Do not abandon him. Do not abandon them all. Time is running short.  _

That last one makes Akaashi’s skin crawl. Time? Are they being timed? What happens when time runs out? Exactly how long do they have? At first, Akaashi had been sort of relieved to hear Kuroo’s voice again. That feeling fades quickly.

“The castle is the end,” Kuroo says, then startles at his own words.

Akaashi goes cold all over.

“We should go to the castle. We will be safe there. Time will run out. The castle will be safe. Go to the castle. Follow the path.” Even Kuroo looks extremely uncomfortable.

“Gods,” Kenma mutters. “Was I talking like that?”

Akaashi shakes his head wordlessly, then gestures for Kuroo to continue.

“The castle is the beginning. The castle is the end. All will end up there.”

Kenma shudders. “Nothing utterly terrifying about that. I… Thank you for getting me out of there, Akaashi, Kuroo.”

Akaashi merely nods, mind whirring. “Why the castle?” He asks. “Is there an answer for a question like that that you can say?”

Though Kuroo’s face does not change, Kuroo’s voice takes a turn for the cruelly amused. “For the Prince,” he says, ears flattening to the back of his head at the sound of his own words. “There is only one place for the Prince.”

“Prince Sawamura?” He asks, heart stuttering in his chest.

“No,” Kuroo says, that cruel amusement not leaving his tone. “The Prince of the Heart.”

Akaashi blinks. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

Kuroo meows.

“He says he has no idea. He doesn’t think there’s an answer for that one,” Kenma says, concern coloring his tone.

“Is… Bokuto the Prince of the Heart?” Akaashi says quietly, looking from Kenma to Kuroo. “That… I guess that would make sense, considering how this curse seems to be focused on him. But… he wasn’t drawn to the castle yesterday. If anything, it repelled him.”

“Kuroo did say we were running out of time,” Kenma says quietly. “Maybe the closer to the end we get, the more of us get drawn in.”

“I hope that’s not the case,” Akaashi murmurs. “I can’t stop all of you. Hell, I wouldn’t have been able to stop you, Kenma, if Kuroo hadn’t been there to help me.”

“Hopefully I’ll have time to transform completely,” Kenma huffs. “Then you can grab us both by the scruffs.”

His attempt at humor is weak, and falls flat when no one laughs.

“So… that didn’t answer any questions really, just generated more,” Akaashi frowns. He glances over at Kenma. “What did you make of Kuroo’s answers?”

He thinks for a moment. “There’s an answer. There’s a way to fix this. That was a hope, before. We had no real evidence, just coincidence and a prayer. From what Kuroo said, I think we’ve got our confirmation that we  _ can _ reverse all this. That’s something.”

Akaashi hums. “Kuroo? Your thoughts?”

Kuroo makes a series of rumbling sounds, a few meows interspersed.

“He thinks we should ask Bo. See if we can find an alternate mode of talking to him. Based on his reaction to the castle, he might actually know the answer. Maybe the reason they stole his ability to talk completely is so that he can’t tell us exactly what the answer is.”

It’s then that Bokuto returns to the clearing, carrying four turkeys in his massive feet.

Akaashi blinks. He had asked Bokuto to grab enough for all four of them.  _ One _ turkey would probably have been sufficient - they’re pretty big birds. He should have predicted that Bokuto would overdo it.

Then he thinks about it. Bokuto probably hadn’t eaten since yesterday noon. Maybe three of the turkeys were for him.

“Thank you, Bokuto,” he says, but Bokuto only stays long enough to drop the dead birds on the forest floor before flying off again.

Akaashi only frowns briefly, before starting to gather sticks.

Kenma blinks at Akaashi, then the place in the trees where the leaves are still shivering from Bokuto’s exit. “Are… Are we not worried about where he went?”

“He’s gathering flint,” Akaashi says simply. “He knows we need it to start a fire. He might also be grabbing Kuroo’s sword.” He glances at Kuroo. “I borrowed it to start a fire the other day.”

Kuroo snorts, which is a weird sound to come from a cat.

It’s with a disgusted curl to his lips that Kenma starts using his claws to remove the skin from one of the turkeys, careful to make sure the bloody bird doesn’t drip on the clothes.

Bokuto returns shortly, with another assortment of rocks, most of which at least closer in appearance to flint. Fortunately, once again, he does bring back one decent sized chunk of flint, and Akaashi starts a fire a moment later.

Kenma finishes skinning the turkey, and Akaashi stakes it with a stick, finding two more sticks to make a way to prop the bird above the fire.

“Bokuto,” Akaashi says calmly, glancing at Kenma and Kuroo. “We have a question for you. Is it alright if we ask it?”

Bokuto, who had been watching the bird on the fire with an intensity that was probably cooking the bird faster, looks up, the feathers on the top of his head perking up in curiosity.

“Do you know who the Prince of the Heart is?”

Bokuto is still processing the question, frozen in place, when figures start stepping out of the brush.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The beginning of the end

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello.
> 
> classes have been a Lot. i'm sorry this has taken so long.
> 
> we're almost at the end! i'm guessing one to two more chapters!! like i mentioned earlier, the various sequels (because i actually do have another one started and ideas for several more, so there's that to look forward to :D)
> 
> i think i'm going to post the art at the end, and put reminders in the relevant chapter notes, mostly because i haven't really had the time/energy to finish the art (this month has been Long) i do have bokuto and kuroo done though, so i'll post them with this chapter :) also if the image is funky i'm sorry i'm so unpracticed with posting images here
> 
> hope yall are staying safe and vibing this february and hope you all enjoy this chapter!! <3
> 
> EDIT: i cannot, for the life of me, get the image to work. i tried.  
> i really, really tried.  
> like... seven different times, seven different ways.  
> i'll try again later but i'm frustrated right now  
> sorry

The first figure to emerge is a snake. Suguru, to be specific.

His eyes are glinting green. “The castle,” he says, in a voice like gravel.

A puppy joins him. Then a turtle. A stag, with a cockroach perched on its nose. A squirrel. One after another, animals file out of the underbrush. The animals part for a caracal, tall and broad and regal. All with eyes shining like spring grass.

They approach Kenma and Kuroo’s nest on the forest floor, stopping just shy of the edge of the clothes.

Sir Terushima, Akaashi realizes a beat late. 

“The castle awaits,” Sir Terushima says, almost growling. He does not spare a glance at Akaashi. Bokuto, too, is no object of his attention. “It has beckoned. You did not go.”

Kenma and Akaashi share a glance. Akaashi’s fingers twist together tightly. “Who sent our invitation?” Akaashi asks. “My mother warned me of stranger danger.”

Sir Terushima’s head slowly swivels to face him. If it weren’t the head of a feline, it’d be a little terrifying. “The castle beckons. You are running out of time, Akaashi Keiji.”

Akaashi shivers. He’d never met Sir Terushima, and seeing as Bokuto generally failed to pronounce his family name correctly on the best of days, he’d probably not told Terushima it.

Magic can be gods-damned _creepy_.

Being friends with Asahi, whose magic is soft and warm and benevolent, has made him soft.

“Running out of time for what?” He asks.

Sir Terushima cocks his head to one side. “To save us all.”

He says it like it’s simple, like it’s obvious. 

“I can’t save you without knowing what I’m supposed to save you from.”

This time, Sir Terushima does not speak alone - the rest of the animals chorus with him. “You are to save us from eternity,” they say.

Akaashi swallows. “An eternity of what?”

The caracal smiles. “An eternity of never-ending green. An eternity in the Castle of Trees. An eternity staring at the Decaying Rose. An eternity, Akaashi Keiji, of beasthood.”

For the first time since he wandered into these woods, Akaashi _really_ wishes that he didn’t get his question answered. “What is the Decaying Rose?” he tries, forcing calm into his voice. That question seems the least dangerous of any of the ones on the tip of his tongue.

“The measure of how much time you have left.” When Sir Terushima turns his body to face Akaashi, Akaashi wishes he hadn’t asked at all. Having the attention of all the animals is uncomfortable. “You have five petals left.”

“What does that even mean?”

“Five days,” Sir Terushima says, like that should be obvious. “Five days, Akaashi Keiji.”

“What is the point of all this?” Akaashi asks instead, frustration creeping into his tone.

The caracal grins, canines glittering. “Fun.”

“Nothing about this is fun.”

“And that is fun,” he replies easily.

“How do I stop this? How do I save you?”

Sir Terushima licks his lips. “That is a question I cannot answer. I have told you enough.”

“You’ve hardly told me anything at all!”

“And _that_ -” the grin widens, “- is fun. Aren’t you having fun?”

Kuroo meows quietly, and out of the corner of his eye, Akaashi watches Kenma nod emphatically.

“No,” Akaashi says quietly. “I’m not. I’m half inclined to just leave.” It’s a bluff - he isn’t and he wouldn’t, but if whoever is manipulating Sir Terushima is going to be deceptive, then so is Akaashi.

Sir Terushima considers him for a moment. “The answers you seek are not among the trees. You have asked the wood to provide, and it has given you all it can. The castle holds the answers you seek. The Castle of Trees holds the question and the answer.”

Akaashi bites his lip.

The way he sees it, he has one choice.

Kenma seems to come to the same realization, and opens his mouth, doubtlessly to reject Akaashi’s idea, but he’s half a breath too slow.

“I will go,” Akaashi says, “alone.”

Sir Terushima grins. “Martyr.”

There goes all of Akaashi’s poorly assembled confidence.

“Akaashi, that is a _horrible_ idea! You-”

“You can’t move off that clothing without turning into a creepy zombie. This-” he points at the animals around him, “-is exactly how you were acting yesterday. This is how you looked when you shredded my hand and my face.” He gestures sharply at Sir Terushima. “If you _choose_ to become that again,” Akaashi gut twists, “I won’t help you.”

Kenma’s face goes slack.

“I can’t watch that again, Kenma, so I won’t. I… I just can’t do that again.” He draws in a shaky breath. “Since the two of you can’t move off that blanket, you can’t get food or water. Since he said the forest has done all it can to help us, I’m assuming that means it won’t be casually rearranging itself to suit our needs anymore. You’ll need Bokuto to hunt for you. That leaves me. This is the best route.”

“Yeah, “best” assuming nothing will attack you and that the whole damn thing isn’t a trap!” Kenma growls, eyes blazing. “ _Best_ my ass, Akaashi.”

“Then what’s a better plan?” Akaashi snaps.

“Carry me and Kuroo! Bring Bokuto! Literally anything other than going alone is better!”

“No. It’s not safe for you two, and Bokuto fled at the mere sight of the castle yesterday. He’s not reliable.”

Bokuto, who has been remarkably still and quiet this whole time, wilts a bit at the bite in Akaashi’s words.

“Don’t be an idiot,” Kenma snarls, the tone distinctly feline. “Akaashi Keiji, sacrificing yourself isn’t the answer!”

“There’s no better option!”

“Go get help!” Kenma roars, and the world seems to pause for a breath. “We’re not alone! You can get out! You’ve always been able to get out! Go get help, and then come back!”

“More friends to last eternity with, then,” Sir Terushima chuckles, and it takes a shocking amount of willpower for Akaashi to _not_ throttle the caracal.

“I’m not putting more people at risk!” Akaashi yells back. “It’s damn easy for you to say when people aren’t telling you it all rests on you!” There’s a taut silence. “ _Go get help_ ,” Akaashi scoffs, though his voice catches. “I’ve already damned three of my closest friends, why stop there? Why don’t I just damn all of the people I’ve ever cared for?”

Kenma’s chest is heaving, but his gaze is unerring. “Akaashi, that’s not fair.”

“Oh, _horseshit_ ,” Akaashi snarls. “How is that not fair? Every last gods-damned word of that was-”

“You haven’t failed yet, dumbass-”

“- was the reality of the situation,” Akaashi finishes, raising his voice to be heard. “What’s not fair is you arguing that you should come with, when you damn well _know_ how hard it was for me to watch you fight me yesterday. When you _know_ you can’t be trusted there.”

Bokuto lets out a loud, piercing cry. 

The forest goes still. Even Sir Terushima simply looks over in mild curiosity.

With a definitive hop, Bokuto places himself between Akaashi and Kenma, spreading his wings like a barrier between them. He faces Akaashi, then screeches, high and sharp.

When Akaashi opens his mouth - to say what, he hasn’t decided yet - Bokuto screams again. And again and again until Akaashi stops trying.

Kenma opens his mouth, drawing breath to speak, and Bokuto turns on him so fast Akaashi gets dizzy.

Bokuto lets out the harshest hiss Akaashi’s ever heard. 

Kenma doesn’t need to be told twice.

“I’m sorry,” he says, before Bokuto can screech at him. Bokuto only turns to face him though, not even looking like he’s going to scream. “I’m sorry, Kenma. I… I didn’t… I shouldn’t…” To his utter dismay, his eyes are watering. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry too.” Kenma sounds choked up.

If Akaashi doesn’t cry, Kenma _really_ doesn’t cry, which only makes the sob wavering beneath his next words hit harder.

“I’m sorry for insulting you and I’m sorry for making it sound like I don’t care about how you feel.”

“I’m sorry for my cruel words.” Akaashi keeps his voice quiet, mostly just to keep his voice from breaking. “I’m sorry for losing my temper with you. I’m sorry for making you worry about me.”

Kenma takes a deep, shuddering breath. “I’m sorry for yelling.”

“Me too.”

“Interesting,” says the caracal, and Akaashi wishes with his whole heart and soul that Bokuto would screech at the eerily grinning cat.

“What is interesting?” Kenma asks, more than a little defensive.

“The Prince of the Heart, of course,” he says, his eyes fixed on Bokuto. “Truly, Akaashi Keiji, the forest has favored your cause. It’ll make your failure all the sadder. I really thought you were smarter than this.”

It’s Kuroo who snarls, loud and challenging. Kuroo’s a big cat, to be sure, but his shoulder falls a little short of Akaashi’s knee. 

Sir Terushima’s shoulder is a couple finger widths above Akaashi’s knee. His neck is longer, his head bigger. His ears only add to his height.

Sir Terushima laughs, padding over to loom over Kuroo. “Bold words, housecat. I’d like to see you try it.”

Kuroo puffs up, back arched and fangs and claws bared.

Akaashi gets two of his wishes granted at once.

Bokuto has had enough of this whole song and dance and charges Terushima, grabbing him by the throat and slamming him into the nearest tree trunk. He shakes him once, then screeches in his face.

A long, breathless silence stretches.

“And you still haven’t figured it out,” Sir Terushima says at length, staring over Bokuto’s shoulder at Akaashi. “You still don’t know.”

“Riddles are often easier to understand once you know the answer,” Akaashi says flatly. He’s exhausted. He hasn’t even been awake that long. The sun is only half-way to its peak.

Sir Terushima looks at Bokuto. “You’ve chosen a fool. The forest favored a fool,” he says simply. Then, in the way only cats can do, he does the equivalent of turning his bones to mush, slipping free of Bokuto’s grasp and slinking away. The other animals follow.

None of them speak for a long moment.

“For anyone curious,” Kenma says quietly, “Kuroo threatened to shove a dead turkey up Terushima’s ass.”

Akaashi can’t help it. He snorts. “That,” he smiles, “would have been quite the sight to see. I assume he’s not that big of an asshole when he’s himself?”

Kuroo shakes his head emphatically. Bokuto, too, shakes his head.

“That’s a relief, at least,” Akaashi says. “I would have had to judge you rather harshly for your choice in companions.”

There’s another beat of silence.

“I… I don’t mean to start another fight,” Kenma says, almost cautious. His eyes are still red. “But what are we going to do?”

Akaashi hums. “I don’t know.”

Kuroo meows, but he’s not looking at Kenma or Akaashi. He’s looking at Bokuto.

Bokuto stares back at him, silent.

Meowing again, more insistently, Kuroo pads to the edge of the clothes, not breaking eye contact with the giant owl beast.

Kenma stares at him. He seems too confused to translate. “He can’t understand you,” he says, cautiously.

Kuroo hisses, but his eyes don’t leave Bokuto.

“Kuroo, yelling at him isn’t-”

Bokuto hoots, low and soft. He looks almost… almost… ashamed.

Kuroo growls. Another meow.

“Kuroo -”

Bokuto straightens, then looks over to Akaashi. With a wing, he gestures in the direction of the castle. With a powerful flap of his wings, he takes off, flying the perfect distance off the ground to pick Akaashi up.

Kuroo meows again, sounding triumphant.

“Kuroo says… says Bokuto is going to take care of you. Going to watch your back so you can go to the castle.”

Kuroo purrs, settling back down on the clothes.

“We’ve got enough turkey to last us a long time,” Kenma hums, smiling. “Good job getting through to him, Kuroo.”

Akaashi, a little bit nervous, walks over to Bokuto placing himself between Bokuto’s feet. With surprising gentleness, Bokuto picks him up and they fly away.

The castle is no less grandiose from up close.

Tall, intimidating spires made of massive trunks. A gargantuan set of doors leading into what Akaashi can only assume is the main courtyard.

Guards of flowers stand tall in front of them. Tangles of roses and ivy make up their arms. Marigolds and dandelions make up their legs. Snapdragons for heads, thistle branches for swords.

Akaashi knows his hands are shaking, but Bokuto puts himself between him and the guards without hesitation. He hisses at them, and when they don’t move, calls loud enough that Akaashi covers his ears.

The guards stand aside. The doors open.

Oh, Akaashi is _so_ not prepared for this, but Bokuto appears to be keeping his promise to Kuroo.

Akaashi fully expects him to blaze forward, leading the way, but Bokuto waits, turning to look at Akaashi. They stay still for a moment, staring at each other.

Bokuto looks down at himself, and then awkwardly extends his hand toward Akaashi. He blinks, expectantly.

Akaashi smiles, heart warming. He comes forward, gently holding Bokuto’s hand. He squeezes, and Bokuto lets out a cheerful little trill as he leads the way into the castle.

It’s Suga that spots it on the horizon. “Hey, Daichi?”

He looks up from the map he was studying, dark eye bags making him look half-dead. “Yeah?”

“The shit is that?” Suga asks, pointing to the oddity.

They were taking the elevated trail around the far edge of the forest, so the vast expanse of the forest is visible beneath them. Which allows them to peer above the trees, where the green spires, a massive castle made of bark and green, haloed in the sunset.

Daichi has to blink a couple times, trying to convince himself he really is seeing what he thinks he’s seeing. “I don’t know,” he says, shaking his head. “I… I’ve never seen that before…”

“I’m… I’m not crazy, right? That looks like a fort? A castle?”

Daichi nods.

“So… that’s a giant fort… castle… thing in the middle of a massive, magic forest where our friends disappeared.”

“Yes.”

“You’re thinking what I’m thinking, right?”

Daichi glances at Suga. “I’m thinking that we need to check it out.”

Suga grins. “Finally! A lead!”

Daichi nods, turning his horse around to face the small armed force following along behind him. “We’re going to try to break the treeline here, and head straight east. There’s a structure in the middle of the forest, and that is our goal. Try to cut down as few trees as possible, and kill no more animals than you intend to eat. We’re not here to destroy an ecosystem, we’re here to find our friends. Don’t lose sight of that. I’ll have new orders when we reach the structure.”

His three generals turn and start giving orders to their individual squads, and all of the armed forces turn toward the treeline.

To be honest, Daichi’s a little surprised when they get through the treeline without a problem. They have to cut no branches, fell no trees. It is as though the magic that seeped every iota of the edge of the forest nearest the castle does not stretch to this boundary. The soldiers march through without a problem, their heavy boots carving easy paths through the underbrush.

Suga and Daichi follow behind them, but Suga can’t find it in himself to relax.

Something feels wrong.

The forest is alive, at least it appears to be - the trees are green and and the branches they break off the bushes show green stems. But Suga can’t help but feel like he’s walking through a statue garden. It looks real, it’s to scale, but there’s something about it that just seems… off.

“Your Highness!” A general calls, and Daichi picks up the pace to catch up.

Suga stays on his heels, jaw dropping when he catches sight of what caused the general to get Daichi.

A wide clearing, littered with rocks and twigs and a few pieces of clothing. 

Daichi pales. “That’s Kuroo’s shirt,” he murmurs, when Suga comes up next to him, twining their fingers together.

“What is this place?” Suga whispers, eyeing a giant nest tucked under a tree. It’s covered in massive grey feathers.

“Something’s home,” Daichi mumbles, squeezing Suga’s hand tightly. “Something big. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a 

“What are your orders, sire?” The general hovers a few steps behind them.

Daichi walks over, carefully picking up Kuroo’s tunic. He fingers the sleeve, which has a tear on the sleeve, soaked in blood. “The cut’s too small to have been lethal,” he hums, picking at the sliced threads. “It would have hurt, but it wouldn’t have killed him. If a beast lived here, why would it take Kuroo’s shirt off in a way that wouldn’t ruin the shirt entirely?”

Suga realizes, with a drop of horror, that Daichi is trying to prove that Kuroo isn’t dead.

A loud _MEOW_ echoing through the forest makes the hair on the back of Suga’s neck stand on end.

Daichi turns toward the general. “Take a force. March on the structure. Don’t engage in combat unless combat engages in you. If we can, I’d prefer to keep standings diplomatic.”

“And what are you going to do?”

Daichi sets his shoulders. “I’m going to find Kuroo. If he’s injured, he might be around here somewhere.”

“Sire-”

Daichi gives the general a look. “If I’m unsuccessful, I’ll catch up with you. I know the risks of going off on my own. I know the chances of finding him are slim. You’re not going to convince me to change my mind. Go. Do not engage without cause.”

Suga squeezes his hand. “I’m staying with you. You won’t be alone.”

Daichi gives Suga a weak smile, then nods. “Good. I’ll need you.”

The soldiers march away, though more than one of them looks back at their prince and his advisor in confusion and concern.

Another cat-like howl crashes through the forest.

“Am I the only one who would very much like to know what kind of cat that is?” Suga whispers. “I’ve spent a lot of time in forests and I’ve _never_ heard a cat sound like that.”

Daichi shrugs. “Can’t hurt. Maybe it’ll have a clue for us.”

When the cat yowls again, Daichi and Suga tentatively head toward the source.

What Suga had expected to find was a catamount, perhaps mortally wounded or otherwise trapped.

What Suga had _not_ expected to find is a large black farm cat and a mutated humanoid/feline sitting on a pile of clothes, with two half-eaten raw turkeys sitting off to the side.

Both he and Daichi freeze at the sight, and the cat human mutant grins, eyes bright. “Suga!” it rasps, and Suga feels his brain explode.

“What.”

Daichi leans over to Suga, whispering. “Why does that thing know your name?”

“Suga!” it coughs, wincing. “It’s… It’s Kenma!”

Suga blinks. Once. Twice.

“Kenma?”

The mutant nods, pawing at its hair, which is about the same length as Kenma’s. “Changed, but still…” he has to take a pause to cough, “... still Kenma.”

Suga’s mind darts back to Noya and Tanaka, and Asahi’s magic that turned them into mice. Strangely, Kenma being part cat, part human doesn’t seem so impossible. “Wait… if you’re Kenma… does that mean… that…” He gestures at the black cat wordlessly, trying to convey his thoughts.

The black cat meows encouragingly, tail wagging. “Go to him,” Kuroo’s voice rumbles out of the body of the cat. “Save us all.”

Daichi releases a loud sigh of relief, putting his hand over his heart. “Kuroo, you’re alive,” he breathes, smiling at Kuroo. “You’re okay. Thank the gods.”

Kuroo leaps to his feet, pacing in a tight circle, but never stepping foot off the clothes.

“Can’t touch… the ground,” Kenma rasps. “Otherwise…” He coughs, wincing in pain. “Otherwise, we… lose… our minds.”

Daichi goes to crouch next to Kuroo on the clothes, and Kuroo wastes no time leaping into his arms, climbing up to sit on his shoulders. He’s purring loudly enough that Daichi laughs, and scratches behind Kuroo’s ears.

“What happened to you guys?” Suga asks, squatting next to Kenma. “Does the forest turn you into animals?”

“No,” Kenma shakes his head. “Bokuto.”

Daichi perks up. “You know where Bo is?”

Kenma blinks. “The Castle of Trees.”

“The big tall green thing in the middle of the forest?” Suga asks, and Kenma nods. Suga grins. “They’re going to find Bo!”

Kuroo chokes, coughing. He meows pointedly at Kenma, who stiffens.

“Who’s going to find Bo?” Kenma mumbles.

“The army we brought to save you guys,” Daichi says with a frown.

Kenma chokes, coughing just like Kuroo did. “You can’t mean… They can’t! Bo… Bokuto will…” A coughing fit cuts off his last few words.

“Will what?” Suga whispers, frowning.

Kuroo lets out a mournful meow.

“Attack them,” Kenma finally gets out.

Akaashi looks around the massive main hall.

He doesn’t want to like this place, but it really is beautiful. It’s warm and smells lovely and flowers adorn the walls and banisters.

Daishou slithers up to them. “You came,” he says, but his voice doesn’t have the same cruel ring to it that Terushima’s had in the forest. “Akaashi, I hope you know what you’re doing.”

Akaashi blinks. “You just… spoke. Normally.”

Daishou nods. “It’s one of the few advantages to being trapped here. We can all speak freely. Well, for four more days.”

“What happens in four days?”

Daishou stares at him. “In four days, the last petal falls.”

“But what does that mean?”

“That means the curse becomes permanent. Bokuto will have failed the challenge put to him, and everyone he’s attacked will pay the price. I don’t know what will become of you.”

Panic is rising swiftly in Akaashi, flooding him and making it hard to breathe. “Why will you not be able to talk in four days?”

Daishou blinks. “All of us who have become animals will revert to a feral state. Any trace of who we were will vanish. We will become beasts, and likely attack and consume one another. Only Bokuto will keep any shred of his mind, but he will be immortal and stuck in the body of a beast.”

“So what do I have to do?”

“I wish I could tell you. We all know, all of us. Bokuto too. But the curse makes it impossible for us to speak the words, even to hint at them.”

Bokuto squeezes his hand gently. “There must be bedrooms somewhere here,” he says quietly, and Akaashi’s eyes widen. “You look exhausted. I’ll keep watch while you sleep.”

He doesn’t think about it. He doesn’t hesitate.

He throws his arms around Bokuto’s neck, toes not even touching the ground as he hugs him tight. “You’re back,” he whispers, voice choked. “You can talk again. Gods, I missed your voice.”

Bokuto chuckles, but it sounds just as choked as Akaashi’s voice. “I missed my voice too.”

Akaashi squeezes him tighter, burying his face in Bokuto’s feathers. Then, quietly, so only Bokuto can hear, “Bokuto, I don’t know what to do. I’m scared. How… How do I save you? What am I supposed to do?”

Bokuto wraps his arms and wings around Akaashi, cocooning him in warmth. “I can’t tell you, but it’s going to be okay, Akaashi. We’ll be okay. Four days is a lot of time and you’re really smart. And if things go to shit, it’s not your fault. It’s mine. It’ll always be mine.”

Akaashi shivers, breathing Bokuto in. “I don’t want to fail. You have to help me, however the curse will let you.”

Bokuto squeezes him gently. “You know I will.”

“Bo!” Terushima comes bounding up to him.

Akaashi tenses, and Bokuto lets out a nasty hiss.

Terushima stops. He turns to Daishou. “What did I do?” He sounds vaguely horrified.

Daishou shakes his head. “One of the townspeople told me that they watched you and several others walk out of here like zombies.”

Terushima’s ears droop, and his whole face reads remorse. “Bo, I’m _so sorry_.”

Bokuto relaxes a bit. “And I’m sorry for choke-slamming you, but… uh… you kinda deserved it, no offense.”

Terushima’s eyes widen. “ _That’s_ why my throat hurt!”

Daishou just chuckles. “Gods, what a strange world we’re living in.”

“We shouldn’t waste time sleeping,” Akaashi says to Bokuto. “At least, spend as little time as possible. I need to search for the answer, since I still don’t get it, even though apparently it’s obvious to everyone else.”

Bokuto sighs. “It’s not obvious, Akaashi.”

Akaashi stiffens at the sadness in his tone.

“It has never been obvious. It’s my own fault.”

The words almost come spewing out of his mouth, but he manages to hold them back just in time.

 _But where in the hell does that leave us?!_ , his heart screams.


End file.
